


the force of my love was strong

by lineofpepsi



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Drugs, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Far Cry 5 AU, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Joe and Tony are here boiz, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutilation, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religious Content, Religious Fanaticism, Self-Harm, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 96,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lineofpepsi/pseuds/lineofpepsi
Summary: Evan tried to leave his past behind, but now he's forced to confront people he once thought he knew. People he once loved are now monsters - preaching about the end of the world - and out to get those he cares about.Evan doesn't know how, but he's going to try his hardest to save everyone.





	1. blast to the past

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, here is what's hopefully a new series, maybe. If you guys end up liking it, I'll continue it. It's heavily based on Far Cry 5, which is all about cults and you trying to save the world. It's pretty violent and messed up, but the game is fun and I haven't been able to get this AU out of my head, so here we are.
> 
> I'm keeping some elements from the game while changing others, mainly for the plot. I'll update the tags as I go, so be sure to check those for potential triggers!
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

Evan stares at the large, wooden sign sitting diligently on the side of the road, weathered with age and barely legible. He doesn’t need to see the letters painted in chipping yellow lacquer to know what the sign says.

_ Welcome to Hope County _ . 

Evan swallows once, and presses the gas pedal of his old truck, urging it forward as quickly as he dares to on the crumbling road. He had somewhat hoped he’d never be back to this particular county, but he guesses he should’ve seen this happening.

It’s another few miles of lonesome forests, and then a few more miles of steady farmland, passing through a couple small towns, a lodging area, another forest, and then finally, he arrives at his destination: the sheriff’s office.

It’s a small building, worn down like any other in the entire state. The sheriff himself was standing on the porch of it, smoking a cigarette and damn near bouncing on his heels. 

Evan pulls his truck up, hurriedly parking it and heading towards the man on the porch.

“Those’ll kill you, ya know,” Evan says, nodding his head at the other man’s cigarette as a greeting. “I see you haven’t changed.” 

“Neither have you,” The sheriff replies with a playful roll of his eyes. “Still on me about smoking when we’ve got shit to deal with.” 

“Indeed we do, Sheriff Thompson.” Evan gives his old friend a mock solute, unable to resist messing with him. “Lead the way, sir!” 

His friend, Craig, just shakes his head and turns on his heels. “You’re the worst,” He murmurs as he opens the door into the office, and puts his cigarette out into the nearest ashtray. “Alright, Junior Deputy - since we’re going with official titles here - come meet your crew.” 

Evan follows the sheriff into a conference room near the front door, where three other men are waiting for them.

“Ev, you look like crap” John, the shorter of the two, says as soon as the deputy enters the room, immediately pulling him into a hug. He’s changed over the years, the most noticeable difference being his hair is now bleached and badly in need of a haircut.

“Gee, thanks.” Evan shakes his head, patting the other man on the back lovingly. He then turns to the other man in the room, who’s been standing off to the side the entire time. He seems vaguely familiar, but Evan isn’t quite sure, so he sticks his hand out and puts on a smile. “I’m Evan Fong, nice to meet you.” 

The other man firmly shakes his hand, nodding at him. “Luke Patterson, U.S. Marshall. It’s a pleasure.” 

His tone implies that it was, in fact, not a pleasure. 

“No offense intended, but why is a Marshall here?” Evan asks, turning so he can face everyone in the room. “What the hell is going on?” 

Craig grimaces. He looks like he regrets his entire career right about now. “I’ll explain in the ride over. We’re taking the helicopter, we have to go deep into the mountains for this.” 

 

_ You approach a old, white church that stands alone in a field. You are shoved through the worn doors by people in dark clothes wielding rifles and shotguns. You take a seat among the pews to hear the sermon. People sit on either side of you; they desperately scan the front of the church, looking for the man they came here for. _

_ Finally, the Prophet takes a stand in the center of the stage. He’s a tall man, clad in nice clothes. He wears a gray blindfold over his eyes, with the Omega symbol painted in the middle of it. Despite the blindfold, he still has perfect vision; his eyes sweep over the crowd, and he begins his revival.  _

_ “God demands we save those lost souls whether they want to be saved or not. Some will be saved, but some… some will wish to harm us. Some will wish to destroy all that we have built here together. And some…”  _

_ The Prophet’s eyes scan the crowd, slowly, before landing on you.  _

_ “Some will betray us.” _

_ You are dragged forward by your arms, and thrown to the Prophet’s feet. You land harshly on your knees, and are forced to look up, to meet the Prophet’s gaze; it’s harsh, piercing even with his eyes covered. _

_ “And those in the outside world are blind.” The Prophet lays his hands on your cheeks, gently wiping under your eyes with his thumbs. “They do not believe. They do not have Faith.” _

_ You unwillingly whimper under his gaze, and he bothers to try and calm you. He smiles, but it’s cold.  _

_ He meets your frightened gaze, and murmurs - as if only to you - “I will make them see.”  _

_ Then pain erupts as his thumbs dig into your eyes, blinding you both with pure agony whatever fluid is gushing out of your now empty eye sockets. You scream and writhe; the Prophet lets you fall over onto the floor, half-conscious and suffering. _

_ The last thing you see is the Prophet raising his hands over you, as if showing you off to God looking down on you from above. _

 

Evan shudders as the video - feed from only a few days ago - finally ends. He hands the phone he was watching it on back to the sheriff, who pockets the device as if he’s ashamed of it. 

“You remember the Wrecker boys” Craig asks, adjusting his headset. His voice is laid with static, and is barely audible over the roar of the helicopter, but Evan would recognize that name anywhere.

“Yeah, how I could forget them?” Evan eyes the Marshall sitting in front of him, worried as to what exactly they were doing. “What’s going on?” 

“Ohm, you remember Ohm, he claims that God has chosen to reveal to him the ending of the world, the ‘Collapse’ as he calls it. Ohm has taken it upon himself and his brothers to try and save as many people as they can from this Collapse, and they’ve done that by-” 

“Forming a goddamn religious, militant cult,” The Marshall interjects. “Ohm and his brothers have formed a damn cult, and they’re suspected of kidnapping, killing, stealing land, and everything in between.” Luke eyes the men around him, mouth drawn into a slight frown. “I’ve been called in to arrest Ohm.” 

“The cult’s called the Project at Eden’s Gate. The locals call the followers ‘Peggies’, and the peggies call Ohm the ‘Prophet’,” Craig adds. “He’s no joke, not now. Neither are his brothers - Tyler, Delirious, and Smitty.”

Evan shakes his head, briefly wondering if this is some sort of elaborate practical joke. “You’re telling me that Ty and his brothers run a doomsday cult? And they think the ending is coming, as in soon? That doesn’t sound like them to me.” 

“You haven’t been here in years, Rookie,” Craig says, using the nickname only half-jokingly. 

“Wait, you’re just a newbie and they sent you out for this?” John asks, speaking for the first time the entire helicopter ride. He’s been silenting piloting the chopper, and Evan had almost forgotten he was there. “Weren’t you out in the city anyway?”

“They found out about my connection to the Wrecker’s, and sent me.” Evan shrugs. He wishes that his superious hadn’t found out, he wishes that he never needed to come back to this county, but wishes are pointless now. He’s there, and he has a job to do.

“That’s what happened to me too,” Luke chimes in, hand unconsciously going to hover over his handgun. “The arrest warrant was issued and fell to me because I knew the family. A long time ago.” 

“There’s still time to turn back,” Craig says. He’s been looking out the window for the last few seconds, watching the trees go by with growing unease. He can’t help but remember the run-ins his people have had with the cultists, with the Wrecker brothers themselves. It isn’t a road Craig wished to go down again.

Luke looks at the Sheriff, eyes glittering with something that Evan didn’t like. Arrogance, maybe?

“Are you scared, Sheriff?” The Marshall asks with a wry smile. 

Craig is saved from answering by the pilot, by John announcing their arrival. The helicopter lands roughly on the ground, and within seconds it’s almost surrounded by cultists; people wearing ragged clothes, holding various kinds of firearms, looking at the group of law enforcement with a special kind of hatred.

“Alright, everyone, we do this my way,” Craig mutters, eyeing the peggies carefully. “We do this quietly, and Marshall,” he faces Luke, whose hand is back to hovering over his pistol, “Do not touch that service weapon if you plan on getting out of here alive.” 


	2. well shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was not supposed to happen like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM second chapter already  
> The action picks up a bit, and I suck at writing action, so it might suck.  
> I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless
> 
> also, the tags were updated with a couple things so please read those

Evan is the last to exit the helicopter; Craig and Luke are already on the ground, defenses high and eyes flickering all around their surroundings. Evan shoots one last glance at John, who gives him a thumbs up. As the pilot, John has to stay in the chopper in case of an emergency evacuation.

Evan wishes John could come with them; he doesn’t like the air around this… compound. He’s not sure what else to call the structure that was built around the old white church he remembers from the video Craig showed him. 

High walls, tents, caged areas for dogs, and suspicious cultists surround the trio of law enforcement. The air is so filled with tension that Evan can practically see it crackling around them.

“He’ll be in the church, come on.” Craig gestures to the two men following him, already heading towards the building at the end of the compound. 

They walk very slowly along a dirt road lined with stones. It reminds Evan of the yellow brick road in Oz, but instead of leading to promises and hope, this one leads to death and suffering.

“Eyes open, stick close,” Craig commands. He doesn’t need to tell Evan twice. The Marshal seems to silently scoff at the sheriff, though.

The three of them follow the winding dirt path that goes between several small buildings, houses maybe. A few of the peggies are gathering outside, murmuring frantically about themselves. 

“We ain’t done nothing wrong,” One of them says. 

“They’re here for the Prophet,” Another brings up.

Evan swallows; he wants to keep his eyes on the ground, on anything other than the cultists around them, but he can’t. He has to be aware of everything around them. 

“Be calm,” Craig raises his voice to the people around them. “Everyone, stay calm. Go about your business, this doesn’t concern you.” 

Shockingly, that doesn’t deter the cultists at all. 

“Sheriff, I don’t like this,” Evan mutters, ensuring that he’s a very close distance away from the other two men. 

“It’s fine, Deputy,” Craig assures him, though he doesn’t sound too certain himself. “Everything will be fine.” 

“Jesus christ, you have badges!” Luke reminds them in a curt tone. His attention is currently on two dogs behind a gate, barking ferociously at the three of them. The dogs themselves are barely restrained by a couple cultists who look as if they want nothing more than to release the dogs and allow them to feed on the law enforcement encroaching on their community.

Craig scoffs and shakes his head. “They don’t respect badges much around here, Marshal.” 

“They’ll respect a nine millimeter,” Luke says as if it’s obvious.

“Not every problem can be solved by a bullet.” 

The Marshal is saved from replying by their arrival at the church. It’s a typical church, wooden and painted white, but the walls are… marked. The tall wooden doors are completely covered in some sort of scripture that’s been carved right into the wood. Evan doesn’t really want to know what it says, even if he could read it. He’s grateful for the dark of night obscuring the words. 

There’s obviously a sermon or something going on; the voices of a group of people filled to the brim with fear and desperation, singing ‘amazing grace’ as if their lives - their salvation - depends on it, fills the air.

Luke goes to open the door, but the sheriff nearly slams his hand on the door, stopping him.

“Woah, Marshal, we do this my way, understand?” Craig looks him dead in the eyes, clearly not budging on this. “Quietly and calmly, you got it?” 

“Fine,” Luke raises his hands in the air, almost looking amused at the sheriff.

Craig eyes him a bit longer, than turns to Evan. “Rookie, on me.” He faces the Marshal once more. “And you, try not to do anything stupid.” 

“Relax, Sheriff,” Luke says, tone strikingly nonchalant given their situation. He pats Craig on the shoulder, and smiles. Fucking smiles. “You’re about to get your name in the paper.” He steps back, next to Evan.

Craig rolls his eyes then opens the wooden door.

The three of them step through, and Evan feels as if they’re intruding on something they’re not meant to see. 

The Prophet is standing in the pulpit, leading the sermon. He’s shirtless, and his upper body is covered in scars and tattoos. Even from where they’re standing, Evan can see that the scars spell out the original seven sins, with Pride being the largest, carved right over the man’s stomach. 

His brothers are off to the sides, silently standing there, watching the law enforcement enter the church. 

At the sight of the brothers he once thought he knew, Evan wants to run. He wants to turn away and sprint back home, never looking back. But he can’t. 

Ohm doesn’t stop his sermon. His voice continues to carry over the room, settling in the corners of your mind, blanketing you in security and faith.

“Something is coming,” Ohm says, not even bothering to look at the trio of men now among his congregation. “You can feel it, can’t you? That we are creeping towards the edge…” 

Luke begins to walk forward, hand hovering over his handgun again. Craig makes sure to keep his pace, hand outstretched towards the Marshal as a warning. Evan follows, albeit much more reluctantly than he’s proud to admit. 

“And there will be a reckoning.” 

Men line the aisle leading to the pulpit, all of them glaring at the law enforcement in the room. 

“That’s why we started the Project. Because we know what happens next.” 

The Marshal looks to Sheriff, silently asking if they were really putting up with this. Craig waves off his concern, slowing his pace even more. 

“They will try to take from us. Take our guns. Take our freedom. Take our faith!” Ohm’s voice rises, as do the people sitting in the pews. They begin to move forward, all displaying various forms of anger and distrust. 

“We will not let them,” Ohm promises. 

“Sheriff, come on,” Luke sounds entirely done with this situation. 

“Hold on, Marshal,” Craig stresses, hoping with everything he’s got that the situation won’t escalate like he figures it will. 

Now, Ohm’s staring at the three of them, even through his blindfold Evan knows he is looking directly at them. They’re almost at the pulpit now.

“We will not let their greed, or their immorality, or their depravity, hurt us anymore! There will be no more-” 

“Sheriff, for fuck’s sake-” 

“-suffering!” 

“Fuck this,” Luke pulls out a piece of paper with the federal seal on it, and flashes it in Ohm’s face. “Ryan Wrecker, I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with intent to harm! Now I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can seem ‘em!” 

Ohm raises his hands, and gestures to the three of them. Upon being closer, Evan can see that the platform he’s on is raised, making the Prophet seem much taller - almost godlike. The glow from the candles behind him, his covered gaze, his painful familiarity, it makes Evan feel as if he’s not looking at a man, but something more. Something much more ethereal, much more intimidating. 

“There they are,” Ohm says, still preaching to the crowd surrounding them. “The locusts in our garden. You see, they’ve come for me.” 

Men begin to walk in front of Luke and Craig, forming a wall between them and the Prophet. They’re all holding firearms, looking beyond angry. 

“They’ve come to destroy all that we’ve built. But God will not let them take me,” Ohm says, sounding very certain with himself. He steps down from the platform, meeting his followers with a smile. “We knew this moment would come, we’ve prepared for it. Go,” He commands with a softness that Evan didn’t know he could speak with. “Go, I will be fine.” 

Slowly, his cultists file out of the church, shooting glares at the law enforcement as they leave. Evan swallows as a particularly hateful gaze is thrown his way, averting his eyes as best he can. He looks back to the pulpit, and finds that scene no less threatening.

Ohm’s brothers have gathered there. Tyler, Delirious, and Smitty, all standing there, close to one another, watching the scene unfold before them. Delirious’ face is covered by a hockey mask, Smitty’s eyes are hidden behind duo-colored aviator sunglasses, but Tyler’s face is out in the open. His expression, though, is as stoic as ever; just as Evan remembers, he seems forever displeased with everything that’s going on. 

“I saw when the Lamb opened the First Seal,” Ohm says, hands raised to ceiling and eyes shut. “And I heard, as if it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts say, come and see…” 

“Step. Forward.” Luke commands, still attempting to maintain onto his authority.

“And behold, it was a white horse,” Ohm says, something close to anger underlining his tone. He points at the Marshal, eyes scanning over him, then Evan, then Craig. He lowers his hand, and steps in between the three of them. His eyes never leave Evan. “And Hell followed with him.” He finishes his preaching, and raises his hands, palms to the sky. 

“Rookie, cuff this sonofabitch,” Luke demands, slightly glaring at Evan as he says it. 

Evan looks to the Prophet, whose head is tilted, his lips barely crooked into a smile. 

“God will not let you take me,” Ohm says once more. The pure certainty with which he speaks almost convinces Evan that he’s right, that God  _ won’t _ let them take him. 

He steps forward anyway, and cuffs the Prophet. 

Ohm’s just a man, afterall. 

 

Sheriff Thompson opens the wooden double doors, and commotion hits them full force. 

Some of the cultists are scrambling to and fro, some are shouting at others, some are crying and bemoaning the loss of their Prophet. 

“We have to move fast,” Craig says, ushering Evan to go faster. 

Evan places one hand on Ohm’s shoulder, the other on his arm, and starts to walk. He expects some sort of resistance from the Prophet, but there’s nothing; Ohm moves at the same pace as Evan without difficulty, and keeps his eyes forward. His head is held high, his eyes skirting around as he watches his followers seemingly crumble before his eyes. He knows them better than that, though. Expects better than that.

As soon as the helicopter is less than ten yards away, hell breaks loose. A rock, perhaps a brick, is thrown at the Marshal. Luke manages to dodge it, but then another hits his back. He draws his gun at the same as Craig starts shouting. 

_ “Get to the damn chopper, we have to go!”  _ Craig’s voice manages to rise above the growing pandemonium. “John, get the damn thing ready!” 

Evan races to the helicopter, dragging the Prophet along with him. He’s trying his best to dodge angry cultists, and shoves Ohm into the chopper. He makes sure Ohm is strapped down, then sits himself. 

Cultists are trying to get into the helicopter, trying to do anything they can to stop the kidnapping of their Prophet. They swarm it like bees, climbing onto it, surrounding it, trying to grab either their Prophet or the law enforcement inside.

Luke attempts to take the seat across from Evan, but a cultist is hanging onto his arm, attempting to yank him out of the vehicle. 

_ “Fucking GO!”  _ Craig shouts, trying his best to shut the chopper door with a cultist attempting to lodge themself in the damn thing. 

The helicopter begins to rise from the ground, ascending as quickly as John can make it.

Dimly, Evan notices that Ohm is humming something, some sort of song.

A cultist is still hanging off the Marshal’s arm, seemingly not caring about the fact that they’re well over fifty feet from the ground. It doesn’t matter anyway; Luke shoots them in the chest, and they’re dead before they even hit the ground. 

Evan thinks they’re almost home free, but then he sees a cultist climbing on top of the helicopter. There’s a horrible crunching sound, blood sprays  _ everywhere _ , and the blades of the helicopter stop working. 

They’re falling, they’re spinning, the ground is getting too damn close, they nearly hit a tree, only to be saved by

“Brace for impact!”

the helicopter hits the ground, and Evan blacks out.

 

His head hurts, goddamn it  _ hurts _ . 

He tries to open his eyes; his vision is swimming, doing cartwheels and backflips and somersaults. Nausea builds and builds, but he forces it down. Or up. 

He realizes the chopper is upside down. Luke is in front of him, unconscious; his arms, limp, are hanging, swinging idly.

_ “Hello, is anyone there?”  _

Evan blinks once, trying to find the source of the female? voice. He notices something swinging in the seat next to him. 

He has to close one eye to focus; it’s the radio headset, someone back at dispatch is trying to communicate with them. 

“Amazing… grace…” 

Evan gulps at that voice; he realizes that the seat where the Prophet was is empty. He’s gone, well… he’s singing. Evan reaches for the headset, as best as he can with no goddamn depth perception. 

“How sweet… the sound…” 

The singing is getting closer. Sparks are flying from the chopper, and something is dripping. Probably gas, the smell of it is burning Evan’s nose. 

He’s so close to reaching the headset; one more reach, one more grab, he’s so  _ close _ -

A hand wrapped in a homemade rosary grabs the headset from across Evan. 

“That saved…” 

Ohm’s face looms into Evan’s vision; his blindfold is still on, smeared with something dark, possibly blood. A bruise is blossoming across his nose. His cuffs are fucking gone. 

“A wretch…” 

Ohm brings the microphone on the headset close to his mouth. 

_ “Someone, please tell me what’s going on,”  _ The female dispatch is still going on, sounding frantic. 

“Like me.” 

Ohm smiles, he actually fucking smiles. “I told you that God would not let you take me,” He says. He’s almost gloating, as if he knew he was right, like he’s proud that he was right once more only to be doubted. 

_ “Please, what is going on?”  _ The dispatch woman sounds close to tears. 

Ohm brings the mouthpiece close to him, still looking at Evan as he speaks. “Everything’s fine here, Dispatch. No need to call anyone.” 

The woman’s breath hitches.  _ “Yes, Prophet,”  _ she says. She sounds no less scared.  _ “Praise be to you.” _ Even through the static, the fear in her voice is palpable.

Ohm’s grin turns feral, and he releases the headset. Evan tears his gaze from it - it’s just swinging there, no one is stopping it - and looks at the Prophet. 

“No one is coming to save you,” Ohm whispers, bringing one hand up, the one with rosary, to barely graze Evan’s cheek. Something glimmers in the Prophet’s eyes. Evan doesn’t know what it is, but somehow, he knows, he feels, that Ohm remembers who is. He doesn’t know whether to rejoice or cower from the man’s harsh gaze. 

Ohm looks at him for a moment more, as though analyzing him, then leaves, almost crawling out of the helicopter. 

Evan watches, numb to the world, as Ohm is rushed by a small group of his followers. The Prophet greets them with touches to the shoulder, and moves past them to climb the hood of the truck they arrived on. 

With the moonlight shining on him, outlining him with a white glow, Ohm looks… angelic. Godlike. Terrifying. 

“Everything is unfolding according to God’s plan,” Ohm says, looking to sky and raising his hands, palms to the stars. “I am still here with you. The First Seal has been broken.” 

In the very blurry edges of his vision, Evan can see the Marshal beginning to stir. He can’t tear himself from Ohm; his gaze is fixated on this ghost of a man he once knew. 

“The Collapse has begun,” Ohm affirms, eyes grazing over the wreckage of the helicopter. “And we will take what we need, and we will preserve what we have. And we will kill all those who stand in our way!” 

The Marshal coughs, now fully awake. 

Evan looks at him briefly, then returns his gaze to the Prophet. 

Ohm points at the helicopter, feral smile tearing his lips. “These harbingers of doom will see the truth.” 

Flames begin licking up the sides of the helicopter. If they crawl forward through the gas leaks into the main tank, the entire thing will blow. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Craig mutters from the passenger seat. Evan didn’t even notice he was awake. 

“BEGIN THE REAPING!” Ohm shouts, almost  _ screams _ . 

The cultists rush the helicopter, yellng their own nonsense with fire in their eyes.

Evan’s hands fly to his seatbelt. His hands shake too much, his vision is too blurry, he can’t fucking focus-

Flames erupt on the side of the helicopter, blocking the peggies off from it. 

The Marshal undoes his seatbelt, falling to the floor with a grunt. He doesn’t slow down; he’s sprinting out the door within a second. 

Evan forces a deep breath, ignoring the peggies shouting to the let the chopper explode and kill them, and manages to finally undo his goddamn seatbelt. 

He falls the floor, landing on his knees. He doesn’t notice the pain, he doesn’t even see if Craig and John made it out, he just hears his own voice screaming to  _ fucking run, you idiot, go! _

He goes. He sprints through the trees, dodging the occasional cultist shot. He can hear them shouting behind them, can hear them over the beating of his heart, over the pounding of his boots against the ground. He goes and goes and goes, running until he sees a small hut in the middle of the forest. 

Of course they had to crash in the middle of the forest. 

Evan checks the hut for cultists - there’s only one, he knocks them out by hitting them with a tree branch. He doesn’t want to kill them, even if they really really want to kill him. 

Evan makes himself stay still for three seconds, and takes deep breaths. His heart is still racing a fucking marathon, but he has to take this moment of quiet. 

He scavanges the hut, forcing himself to calm down and think out a plan. He found a baseball bat, a shitty first aid kit, and a pistol with two clips. He doesn’t really want to use the pistol - again, the whole killing thing and the fact that the noise would attract too many other cultists - but he takes it all the same. 

He’s about to leave when the little radio at his shoulder crackles to life. 

_ “Anyone there?”  _ It’s the fucking Marshal.  _ “I found a building, up on the hill near the bridge. I’ll be there, if anyone can hear this, come meet me there.” _

Evan breathes a sigh of relief; he doesn’t have to think up a plan by himself. He thinks the building Luke mentioned is close to him. He leaves his own hut, and starts to silently make his way there, avoiding any peggies he can.

 

Evan barely steps foot onto the threshold of the building before the Marshal appears, swinging something at him. 

Luke stops the object when he realizes who he was about to bash. “Rookie, fuck,” Luke breathes, dropping the object - a pipe, Evan realizes - and leans against the wall. “Come in, it’s empty.” 

Evan follows the Marshal into the building. It looks like the remnants of a house, having been cleaned through for the cult. More scriptures are carved into the walls, and pictures and posters are plastered everywhere.

“Here’s the plan, Rookie,” Luke grabs a rifle off the table, and begins checking it out. “The main road is North of here. It’s only a few hours back to the city. I say we come back here with the fucking National Guard, and storms these motherfuckin’ cultists. To get there, we need to be armed.” Luke hands the rifle to Evan, who gingerly holds the weapon. 

He really doesn’t wanna touch it. He also doesn’t like being called “rookie”. He doesn’t voice either of these thoughts.

“What about Craig and John?” Evan asks. Guilt threatens to close his throat; he just fucking left them there to fend for themselves. 

“They’re smart, they made it out,” Luke swats his question away, eyes on something on the wall. He goes over to it, and takes it off. It’s a framed picture; he slams it on the table, shattering the glass of the frame. 

It’s a family portrait; Ohm is sitting on a wooden chair in the middle, stupid blindfold on. Tyler is standing to his right, hand on his brother’s shoulder. Delirious is to Ohm’s other side, mask on as well. Smitty is sitting on the floor, head resting on Ohm’s knee. His red and blue aviator sunglasses caught the flash of the camera, obscuring his eyes in the picture. 

“This fucking family,” Luke seethes. “They will pay for this shit. I’ll make sure of that.” He grabs the handgun that’s on the table, and heads to the window. “There,” He points out, gesturing for Evan to come closer. “That truck’s our way out. Cover me while I hot wire it.” 

Luke hops out the window, and Evan exits through the door. 

The Marshal darts to the truck. Evan surveys the rest of the clearing around the building, filled with construction stuff. Pallets, piles of metal tubing, other things unknown to him. 

There’s a blur of red just beyond the clearing. 

Evan squints, and raises his rifle. 

Then, an ambush of peggies burst through the trees. 

One of them sprints right for Evan, pipe raised in their hand.

Evan doesn’t let himself think, he just shoots. 

He shoots the cultist right in the chest; they fall to the ground with a harsh grunt. Evan swallows, and moves on to the next peggie. 

One more, then another, then another. Death, death, and more death. 

Evan’s arms are going numb by the time Luke has the truck up and going. 

Evan hops into the passenger seat, praying for a reprieve. 

He’s never prayed before. He doesn’t know why he thinks it would’ve helped. It doesn’t. 

The truck ride’s a blur. Peggies wearing old clothes with the Eden’s Gate starburst cross painted on their chests. They drop, one after another.

Some swarm in trucks, some in ATV’s, some on foot. 

At one point, Luke tells Evan that there’s a case of dynamite in the bed of the truck. 

Explosions ring out; the stench of the blood follows the truck Luke’s driving at a frantic speed. 

At another point, Luke drives straight through a roadblock. He runs right over a peggie. The crunch of their body under the tires threatens to jumble Evan’s brain. 

Eventually, they reach a bridge. There’s a glow at the end of it; the headlights of trucks forming another roadblock. Evan doesn’t even care about that. It looks like the light at the end of the tunnel. They just have to make it past the roadblock, and then they’re on their way to the city, to safety.

Then, some lucky cultist shoots the tires of the truck. It careens, swerving off the fucking bridge.

The force of it hitting the water below snaps Evan’s head against the headrest. His visions gets fucked again. All he can hear is ringing.

He sees the general shape of Luke escaping the truck, leaving him behind for the second time.

Evan lets go of the rifle - useless in the water anyway - and lifts himself through the window of the truck. He watches it sink for a brief moment, and then he has to breath. 

He swims the opposite direction of Luke. He swims up and up and up, craving oxygen more than he craves safety. 

He bursts out onto the surface with a silent hoo-rah, gulping in the oxygen greedily, trying to steal it from anyone else. 

He sees land. He swims towards it, never-minding who might be around him. Turns out, no one is. 

He drags himself up onto the shore, uncaring of the rocks raking into his body, shredding his clothes. 

Evan collapses onto his back. Wildly, he notices the stars, bright and shining. They’re beautiful. 

Something else flickers in the corner of his gaze. 

He looks to the other side of the shore - is he on an island? - and sees a group of cultists detaining the Marshal. Luke is trying to fight them, telling them that he is Federal Marshal, goddamnit, let me go, but they won’t listen. 

Evan looks up to the sky, listening to the sounds of the Marshal struggling and being dragged off to God knows where. 

Just as he thinks he’s free, just as he thinks he’s found a quiet moment, someone else steps into his vision, blocking out the moon. They don’t seem to be a cultist, but you never know out here.

Evan stares at them, but can’t react; he’s too tired. He just huffs - he can’t seem to catch a fucking break out here - then passes out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oo mystery person


	3. first step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan finds more people from his past, but they're on the good side this time.

_ “My children, we must give thanks to God. The day I have prophesied  to you has arrived.”  _

Evan stirs at the voice. It carries over him, swathed in static and righteousness. He can’t quite place whose it is, but the voice stirs brief flashes; white trucks, ragged people, guns being fired, red splattering, bodies dropping to the ground. 

_ “Everything I’ve told you has come true. The authorities who tried to take me from you are now in the loving embrace of my family. Except one.”  _

Evan briefly thinks of who could’ve made it out. Maybe, John, he was always quick. 

Then he remembers. He’s the fucking authority.

_ “But this Wayward soul will be found. And punished. And in the end-” _

Evan manages to open his eyes, and actually keep them open. Wherever he is, it’s dim and he’s grateful. He blinks heavily, trying to stave the waves of nausea threatening to make him throw up whatever’s left in his stomach. He can’t remember the last time he ate. 

His eyes are heavy with sleep. He goes to rub them, but he can’t. His hands are secured with plastic zip ties around a metal post. He realizes it’s a bunk bed. He’s seated next to it, on a cheap plastic chair. 

_ “They will see our glorious purpose. I am your Prophet, and you are my flock, and together, we will march to-” _

There’s the sound of a button clicking, and the voice cuts off. 

Only then does Evan notice that the voice - Ohm’s voice - was coming from a radio, situated on a table pushed to the far wall of the tiny room. Then he sees the person standing in front of the radio. 

They turn to Evan, but he can’t see their face. They reach over, and turn on a lamp sitting on the table. Yellow light washes over them.

Evan has to squint, but he can finally see the face of his rescuer? captor?

They have dark skin, short hair, and are wearing a camo jacket over a dark shirt. Evan feels like he knows this person from another place, another life. He thinks that maybe, they could’ve - or were - great friends. They do not seem happy.

“You know what that shit means?” They have a deep voice, probably male. “It means the roads are closed. It means that they’re going to be nabbing anyone they can fucking reach, to either convert or kill them. It means life in this county just became Hell on earth.” He sounds angry.

The stranger walks a bit closer, grabbing a chair on the other side of the bed and sitting down in front of Evan. The stranger sighs, and looks at Evan with conflicted feelings.

“The easiest thing to do would be to hand you over to them, hogtied and an apple in your mouth,” The stranger admits.

“But we won’t be doing that!” A different voice shrieks from the doorway.

Evan startles, eyes flicking to this new peron. They’re white, with short brown hair and brown eyes. They have a crossbow strapped to their back, and blood speckled on their boots. Evan hopes it’s deer blood or something.

“No, we won’t doing that, baby, I promise.” The dark-skinned man says, nodding vigorously. “Go clean up, you’re getting mud everywhere.” 

The other man huffs, but leaves all the same. 

Evan turns back to the stranger sitting across from him, who now has a knife in his hands. It’s a tactical knife, and looks kind of scary in the low light. 

The stranger leans forward - Evan thinks he might actually just kill him - but he only cuts the zip ties around his wrists.

“Get out those clothes,” The stranger commands as he stands up. “We have to burn them. Get fresh ones out of the closet there,” he jerks his head to something behind Evan. “And meet me out in the other room.” He leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

 

Evan rubs his wrists gently. He looks down at his clothes. There’s blood speckled on the front of his Deputy uniform shirt. He knows it isn’t his. 

The urge to throw up is overwhelming. Thankfully, someone placed a wastebasket next to him; he grabs it, holds it to his face as he heaves and heaves and heaves until nothing’s left.

He sets it down gingerly. He doesn’t feel any better. His head hurts, like nothing he’s experienced before. 

He closes his eyes, but flashes of the last day? night? assault him. Blood, shots, bodies.

He opens his eyes, and decides to focus on getting dressed. 

In the closet, there’s two distinct sizes of clothes happening there. He goes for the larger size, settling on a red flannel that was shoved way in the back, and some dark cargo pants. He decides to keep his boots; surely no one would recognize him by his boots. 

He hates that he has to worried about being recognized now. It makes him feel like an outlaw.

Once he’s dressed, he leaves his clothes by the door and heads into the adjacent room. 

It’s embarrassingly late, but Evan finally realizes that they’re in an underground bunker. Whoever his rescuers (captors?) are, they mean business. 

He hears the two of them bickering in a room off a tiny hallway, so he follows their voices. He can’t hear what they’re saying, and their conversation ceases as soon as he enters the room. 

The taller male regards him with a nod, while the smaller one eyes him down. 

“I forgot you owned that shirt,” The smaller one says.

“I did too,” the other admits. He turns to Evan, looking a tad bit apologetic. “I never introduced myself. I’m Marcel, this is my bunker. This is my boyfriend, Scotty,” he gestures to the other man, who smiles warmly.

“Nice to meet you both,” The deputy murmurs. “I’m Evan, wanted man apparently.”

“Wait, hold up. Evan fucking Fong?” Marcel asks. 

“Yeah?” Evan furrows his brows, but then realizes who the fuck he’s talking to. “Shit, Marcel! Scotty! Oh my God, it’s you!” 

Marcel just about tackles him in a bear hug, squeezing the life out of his abused body. Scotty’s quick to join the now-group hug, surprised that he didn’t recognize his friend sooner. 

“Jesus, man, how ya been?” Scotty asks, patting Evan on the shoulder. “It’s been like fifteen years!” 

Evan swallows, gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, it has.” 

“What happened?” Marcel sounds concerned, like he knows something big went down to make his friend leave their town all those years ago. “You can talk to us, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah, and I appreciate it, but now doesn’t seem like the time,” Evan tries to skirt around the subject - he can tell there’s work to be done outside of their little bubble. 

“Does it have something to do with Tyler?” Marcel asks in a hushed tone, as if saying his name will summon him here.

Evan would be surprised that anyone remembers that he and Tyler were… dating, at the time of his leaving. But then again, they made a pretty big deal about it. And then Evan left, and it wasn’t a big deal anymore. 

“Guys, not right now, please,” Evan stresses, hands going to the trim of his - Marcel’s - flannel, worrying the already bare threads.

Marcel clearly wants to push, but Scotty places his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, and shakes his head. “Not now, baby,” He murmurs. He turns to Evan, and hands him a mug of coffee that had been waiting for him on the table. “Hope you like shitty, instant black coffee. It’s all we got.” 

“Thanks,” Evan breathes a small sigh of relief, and takes the hot drink. 

Marcel sighs, but allows the subject to change. Kind of. “Speaking of Tyler, him and Ohm and the rest of them have changed. They’re a fucking menace now, kidnapping people off the streets and forcing them to convert to their cult.” He takes Evan’s hand, and leads them over to a table covered in maps and papers and even some pistol ammunition that hasn’t been packed into magazines yet.

“There’s a few main resistance groups around the county,” Scotty says, pointing to a few photographs of various people on the table. “Ohm’s brothers have divided up the county into regions. They’re efficient at creating a militarized state if nothing else.”

“Babe, don’t compliment them,” Marcel grumbles. “It’s creepy.” 

Scotty huffs, but otherwise ignores his boyfriend. “Delirious is in the valley to the east, Tyler’s up in the mountains in the north, and Smitty is to the west, around the river. According to Ohm, each of them has someone from your group.” 

Guilt punches Evan in the gut once more, bringing tears to his eyes. Scotty senses this, and maneuvers around the table to bring him into a side-hug. 

“Come on, it isn’t your fault,” The shorter male says, wrapping both his arms around the deputy. 

“Besides, we have a plan to help get them out,” Marcel mentions. He’s over at a different table that’s pressed up against the wall. Radios are all over it, different kinds of service radios each tuned into a different frequency. 

“Where are they?” Evan croaks, blinking harshly to prevent any tears from spilling. He has to be strong for his friends. 

“Luke, that idiot, he’s with Delirious,” Marcel points to the eastern region of the map. “Delirious-” 

“Jonathan,” Evan interrupts softly. “His name’s Jonathan.” 

Marcel nods. “Right, Jonathan. They call him the ‘Baptist’. He’s the one in charge of converting the majority of the new recruits. He has this whole process where you confess your sins and atone, and all through the power of ‘Yes’ will you see the Lord’s truth.” His tone would be mocking, but he’s seen firsthand the pain that Delirious can cause. 

“Craig’s with Tyler,” Scotty points to the northern region. “They call him the ‘Soldier’. It’s his job to train the newbies into people willing to shoot anyone who stands in the cult’s way. He’s all about separating the Strong from the Weak, he calls it culling the herd. The Weak either die, or they’re sent to Smitty.” 

“Smitty uses this drug, they call it Bliss, to hypnotize people into following their cult. Too much of the stuff though, and you’re a brain dead useless sack of nothing. They use these brain-dead addicts, Angels, for menial labor.” 

“Sounds awful,” Evan whispers. It’s a lot of information to take in. 

It’s hard to connect the group of brothers he once knew to the monsters committing these atrocities. He really doesn’t want to connect them. 

Flashes of Ohm speaking to his followers - screaming for them to begin the reaping - remind Evan that there’s no going back. 

“So how do I get my friends from these sick fucks?” Evan asks, steeling himself against the past. 

 

Apparently, it has to start with the island. Liberate it from the cultists, then work up to the rest of the county. Marcel and Scotty sent Evan out to disrupt the cult’s plans through destroying their property, clearing out any outposts, hindering transportation of supplies, and freeing any civilians along the way. 

It’s a lot to do. 

The thought of it all makes Evan want to curl up into a ball and be swallowed into the ground. But he can’t. He has to keep pushing, he has to keep fighting. His friends are in danger. 

He has to get them back. 

 

The island is easy enough to liberate. A couple outposts, a couple shrines, a small amount of peggies.

Evan manages to find a nice automatic rifle, a pistol, and a baseball bat. And several frag grenades. He tries not think about just how the hell this cult got ahold of so many high-grade weapons.

The sound of bodies hitting the ground still threatens to make him lose the quick breakfast he got from Marcel and Scotty. 

If he had it his way, Evan would go right back to that bunker and just help the resistance from the sidelines. Or jack someone’s car and just drive out of the state entirely.

But he’s been placed on the main front of this battle that wasn’t his and he can’t do shit about it. 

Evan takes a second to rest. It’s well into the evening now, and the sun is setting. He climbs up onto a hill for a good view of it, and sits on the grass. 

He fumbles for the two-way radio he kept from his deputy uniform, and hits the receiver. “I think your island’s free now, guys.” 

_ “That it is, Ev, we can’t thank you enough _ ,” Scotty’s voice rises through almost immediately, slightly static-y and full of appreciation.

_ “Now you can get started on the rest of the county,”  _ Marcel pipes up.  _ “You can go east, north, or west. Your choice now, there’s something to do everywhere. Wherever you go, we can help you find the resistance group in that region.” _

Evan thinks of Craig, his friend from years ago. The one who wouldn’t hesitate to step up for him, who managed to make him laugh at some goofy shit no matter how upset he was. He thinks of his captor, Tyler, who could be doing horrible things to him. 

He thinks of John, who’s own silliness was the cause of laughter from everyone. Who managed to make a joke of just about everyone, for better or for worse. He thinks of his captor, Smitty, who’s so goddamn young that he shouldn’t be involved in any of this shit. 

He thinks of Luke. He doesn’t really know Luke, but he vaguely remembers him being around the Wrecker house when they were younger. Luke didn’t really do much, he was just… there. Almost like a baby-sitter, when Evan really thinks about it. He thinks of his captor, Delirious, of Jonathan, who was always a little impulsive and emotional. 

_ “If it helps you decide, the town in Del- Jonathan’s region, Fall’s End, is need of your help. Brock is there, by the way,” _ Marcel’s voice is soft, like he knows that Evan is thinking too much and can’t choose. 

Evan decides that that information did help. “Guess I’m going to Fall’s End,” he says into the receiver. “Guess I’m gonna see Jonathan again.” 

He does his best to ignore the anxiety building in his gut, threatening to make him vomit his entire stomach out, and heads east.


	4. a town and plane walk into a bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan helps the town and then re-steals a plane. Just a normal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's pretty fast-paced, I didn't really wanna drag it out

The journey to Holland’s Valley is nothing if not stressful. 

Evan hikes for the first couple hours. That ordinarily wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact that he’s trekking through a forest at night. He can’t really see, and he doesn’t want to just wave around his flashlight in case some peggies saw him. 

If Evan took a shot everytime he tripped over something, he would die in about ten minutes. 

The hike could’ve been quicker, but Evan tries to walk quietly. He feels eyes on his back, just waiting for him to pause in just the right position to shoot him. He hates feeling this paranoid, but he can’t take any chances to hasten the journey. 

Once Evan gets to the main road - what passes as a main road in the middle of nowhere in this state - he strikes gold; an abandoned car on the side of the road. It looks as if it was run off the road, but it seems like it will hold. 

Sure, the word ‘sinner’ is spray painted on the side of it, but it’s better than nothing. 

So Evan hotwires it, and drives to the biggest town in this county, Fall’s End.

 

After the hour drive it takes to get there, Evan’s feeling a bit tired. 

Seeing the town under attack by peggies - one with a goddamn missile launcher, wakes Evan right back up. He doesn’t waste a single second; Evan gets out of the car with his rifle, and starts firing at whoever he sees is wearing that awful cross signifying the Project. 

It’s a hard battle to win. 

Evan can tell a few people are locked up in one of the buildings; he can hear, and sometimes see, counter-shots being fired at the cultists, hitting the ones he doesn’t see until it’s nearly too late. 

The worst part is one of the pick-up trucks has a damn mounted gun stationed in the bed, and some cultist is just going wild on wherever they think Evan is. 

Neverminding just how the cult has this mounted gun, Evan tries to get rid of the it with no luck. His rifle isn’t doing shit, and he’s running out of ammo. 

Then he remembers the dynamite in his back pocket. He lights it, chucks it, and takes cover. 

The explosion took out the truck with the mounted gun as well as another truck that was too close to it. 

Evan thinks he should start carrying around more dynamite. 

“Dickhead!” A new voice enters the fold.

Evan whips around, scanning frantically for whoever the hell that was. 

Apparently, it was a man waving his arms in the air, looking beyond pissed as he hides inside the wreckage of some building. “There’s a mounted gun on the roof, and a peggie plane on the way! Get up there and raise hell!” He’s pointing to the building across the street as he yells.

Just then, Evan hears the engine of the plane nearing the town, and decides to listen to this random dude who somehow feels familiar.

He finds a very convenient ladder on the building he has to climb. It makes getting to the mounted gun so much easier. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Evan sees the man who yelled at him grabbing a rifle off a dead body and shooting up the remaining peggies. 

The gun’s metal is hot from the sun, and shooting it is louder than anything Evan’s ever heard, but the plane is shooting down the town like an asshole. 

He’s not sure how, but Evan manages to take out the entire small plane and it only takes three attempts. 

The plane crashes into the road just outside the town. Evan slides down the ladder, intent on picking off any remaining cultists but the other man seems to have gotten the rest. 

This guy is either a really good fighter, or just bat-shit crazy. 

Evan crosses over onto the road, still on the lookout for any rogues. 

The smoke is clearing, and with it, people are leaving the shelter of the town buildings and entering the street to rejoice. 

“Are you that Deputy that’s making everyone shit their pants?” 

Evan turns to find that man again, this time he looks happy and is carrying a very large weapon.

The man has carefully styled dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a wide smile. The man also apparently recognizes the deputy. “Evan motherfockin’ Fong, you show at just the right moment to save everyone’s asses!” He laughs, a crazed laugh of relief. 

Then everything connects; the man’s face, his voice, his laugh, the accent, dear god the  _ accent _ . Evan wants to smack himself for forgetting. 

“Terroriser, it’s you!” Evan goes for a hug, which the man, whose actual name is Brian, is not shy about reciprocating. “Fuck, I can’t believe it’s you!” 

“You’re goddamn right it’s me!” Brian laughs again, which encourages people to empty out from the buildings at a faster pace. “You’re the fucking deputy, should’a known.” He grabs Evan’s arm and starts leading him towards a larger building, one that Evan recognizes very well. 

It’s a white building covered in dirt, with an eagle painted on the front and a pink neon-light display of the name of the bar - the Spread Eagle. 

“Let’s get you a drink, God knows I can use one,” Brian says, pushing open the blue doors with a flourish. “I own the Spread Eagle now, can you believe it? Dunno how that happened.” He sits Evan down at the bar, then disappears around a corner. 

Evan takes a moment to admire the inside of the bar he often stopped by back when he was far too young to be in a bar; nothing’s changed at all. The tables are still rickety and old, the posters on the wall are of the same bands from thirty years ago, the jukebox in the corner looks like the cleanest thing in here. 

Brian reappears from wherever he went with a wooden case in his arms. He sets it on the table lightly, and the clinking of glass bottles emits from it. “Goddamn cult stole all my booze a couple weeks back, before they stole the town too. Kept saying that whole temperance shit would help us ‘sinners’ see the error of our ways.” He cracks open the case, and pulls out a bottle of expensive-looking scotch. 

“‘Course, bein’ sober just makes us all cranky to hell,” Brian continues, going behind the bar for a couple glasses. “You really showed up in the nick of time, man, I don’t think we could’ve held out much longer. It’s pretty much just been me and the other dickhead leading the townsfolk as best as I can, and you know me. Them being under my care is a dangerous fuckin’ thing.” He pours the two glasses, and pushes one over to Evan. “There, a victory drink. I know you don’t really do hard liquor, but I don’t have beer. I stashed it somewhere, but I gotta remember just where the fuck that is.” 

“Where’s Nogla,” Evan asks, sipping the drink with thinly veiled disgust. He really doesn’t like scotch, but he also really needs a drink. 

Brian pauses, eyes wide in shock. “Fuck, Nogla!” 

“Yeah, ‘fuck, Nogla!” Right at that moment, the doors to the bar are thrown open, and a very tall, very pale man stomps inside with an air of anger. “Ya fuckin’ left me out there, ya’ prick!” Just then, he notices who’s sitting at the bar, and drops the shotgun he was carrying. “Evan, you’re here? What the hell’s happenin’?” 

Evan only grins at his friend, who’s no different than how he remembers; loud and clumsy, both in his words and manners. “It’s nice to see you too, man.” 

“Get your ass over here,” Nogla says with a grin, crossing the room quickly and giving the deputy a huge bear hug. “Damn, was that you shootin’ up those cultists? No wonder Brian left me to fend for meself, you were a fuckin’ storm out there!” 

“I didn’t leave you, I knew you could handle yourself,” Brian says, sliding over a third glass of scotch to the other irishman. 

Nogla huffs at him, but takes the drink all the same. He turns to Evan, head tilted and green eyes sparkling. “So you’re the deputy, right? How the fuck did that happen?” 

“I’ll tell you another time,” Evan says, waving him off. “I found Marcel and Scotty, they helped me get away from the cult.” 

“Those motherfuckers still hiding away in their bunker?” Nogla asks with more than a hint of contempt underlining his voice. 

“You know they do go out and help,” Brian reminds him. 

“Yeah, but they never truly leave that bunker to help the resistance, not like we do.” 

“They care about their lives a bit more than we do, apparently.” 

“Or they’re massive pussies, but whatever.” 

“Where’s Brock?” Evan interrupts, eyes flicking between the two bickering irishmen. “Marcel told me he was here.” 

Brian raises an eyebrow with a grin. “Brocky, huh? He lives down the road, at his family’s airstrip. Word is, Delirious has been trying to buy him out of it. We haven’t had the chance to go check on him or his wife, but he hasn’t tried to radio us or anything, so we’re hoping no news is good news.” 

“Jonathan’s trying to buy Brock off his land? What?” 

“Delirious is a lawyer now,” Nogla says. He’s still a bit shocked about it, and it’s been years and years. “Big bad lawyer with an assload of money.” 

Brian refills Nogla’s empty glass, and tops off Evan’s as well. “Part of the cult setup, Del’s buying people’s land, or just suing them for it instead. Farms were first, then everything else. He tried buying the bar, but I stood my ground. Then his damn peggies stormed the town anyway.” 

“He’s forcing people from their homes?” Evan couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that the man who was once one of his best friends in the entire world would do something like. 

“That ain’t even the worst of it,” Brian says, voice darkening as if he’s had firsthand experience. “You’ll see soon enough, I guess. We heard he has the Marshal, that idiot who tried to arrest Ohm.” 

“Dunno why you came here, first, I figured you woulda’ gone to Tyler,” Nogla sits down beside Evan with a huff and drains his glass of scotch in one go. 

Evan quickly stands, forcing all thoughts of Tyler and Jonathan from his mind. “I’m gonna go check on Brock,” he announces, probably too loudly. “Just down the road, you said? Same place as when we were kids?” 

Brian nods. His smile looks apologetic now. “That seems like the only thing that’s stayed the same since we were kids. Brock bein’ down the road, I mean.” 

“And you’re fine here? You don’t need anything else?” 

“We need a whole lot of shit, but nothin’ you can give us now. Go check on Brock, say hi for us. We’ll take of everythin’ back here.” 

Evan looks to Nogla, who just nods encouragingly. 

“Okay,” the deputy breathes, steeling himself to go back out there. He takes one more glance at his abandoned glass of scotch, thinks for a half-second, then grabs it and drinks it all. His face scrunches up involuntarily as he sets the glass back down. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll get going.” 

And like that, he leaves. 

Brian looks at Nogla, who he’s partnered up with in running the resistance in the eastern part of this county. He briefly wonders how the hell they’ve gotten to this point in their lives, where they somehow hold major positions in a movement that’s fighting against a weird cult. 

He then thinks about Evan, who just got back into their lives, into the county, after so many years. 

“Should we radio Marcel or Scotty?” Brian asks, idly swirling his drink and feeling like the world’s shittiest metaphorical parent. “Goin’ alone like that’s bound to get him killed.”

Nogla shrugs, standing up as well and grabbing for his shotgun. “He’ll be fine. Probably.” He thinks for a second more, then shakes his head. “Fuck that, radio Marcel, tell him to get his ass movin’.” 

 

Driving down the road to Brock’s is more a literal trip down memory lane than Evan thought it would be. 

All the times he had snuck over to Brock’s in the middle of the night to go sit in the airplane hanger and just drink crappy beer and talk. The times Evan had come over when Brock was flying the family plane, observing with a silent awe how well Brock could command the skies. 

The time he had tried to race Brock’s plane, Carmina, with all he had - just one guy sprinting next to a plane. He lost miserably, but it was good fun. 

Once, Brock had taken Evan flying with him. Evan was horrified the entire time, but somehow, being with Brock made it all worth it. 

Thinking a little bit more, Evan was definitely at least a little bit in love with Brock when they were kids. Then Brock met Lauren who was obviously his soulmate, and any chance Evan ever had was gone with the wind. Not that he minded; he was more than happy for Brock and Lauren, and at the time, he had Tyler. 

Of course, all that comes surging back as Evan drives down the long dirt road leading to the Barrus’ land. For the last three generations, Brock’s family has done all things aviation - helping out the locals with their crops, delivering stuff, teaching people how to fly, even doing aerial tours and stuff. 

Seeing the plane hanger loom into his view, under attack by those stupid cultists, made Evan understandably upset. 

So he got out of the truck he borrowed from someone - he was going to at least try to return it - and started shooting up anyone he could see who didn’t belong. 

He saw someone wearing a red flannel taking cover in the actual hanger, where no bright yellow plane was currently occupying. That has to be Brock in there, so where the fuck is the plane?

Evan tries his best to make it to the hanger while not getting shot and it takes a while, but eventually all the peggies are down for the count.

“Holy crap, those peggies stole my plane!” Brock shouts, bursting from his cover holding a rifle and looking beyond angry. He takes a deep breath, and looks to the deputy. He blinks, squints, then rubs his eyes. “Evan? Is it actually you?” 

“It’s me, Brock.” Evan moves forward, meeting the other man for a quick hug. 

“Oh, man, am I glad to see you. Look, I hate to put out like this, but those cultists stole Carmina! You have to get her for me, please, we’re trapped, and that’s our only way out of here. I would go get her myself, but Lauren’s pregnant and due any second, a-and, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

Evan places his hands on Brock’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Breathe, man, just breathe.” 

Brock does as he’s told. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m freaking out, you know, they have my plane! My family needs your help, Evan, I - we need it back!” His voice cracks, and tears are evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I hate gettin’ all emotional, but will-”  

“I’ll get her back for you,” Evan promises, nodding encouragingly. “Where did they take her?” 

“Jonathan’s ranch, it’s the only place with an airstrip big enough to land her. I really don’t like you going there alone.” 

Evan has to fight the sudden urge to laugh. Even when his world seems like it’s falling apart, Brock still has to mother him, just a bit. 

“I’ll be fine,” the deputy promises. “Next time you’ll see me, I’ll be flying Carmina right back to you.” 

“Please be careful.” 

Evan goes to tell him that of course he’ll be careful, careful is his middle name, but then a navy blue truck pulls up onto the airstrip. 

“Oh, what now?” Brock mutters, raising his rifle. 

The driver gets out, hands raised in the air. It would be a sign of peace if it weren’t for the fucking shotgun in his hand, but whatever. 

“It’s just me, Marcel,” The man announces loudly. 

Evan grins while Brock sighs in relief. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Evan asks. 

“Brian called me, said your dumbass needed some help. So I’m here to help.” Marcel pumps his shotgun with one hand, then swings it so both hands are firmly planted on the well-loved weapon. “So what’s on the agenda?” 

“Storming Jon’s ranch to get back Brock’s plane,” Evan tells him with such nonchalance, as if they were discussing typical weekend plans and not… this. 

Marcel grins. “Let’s do it.” 

 

Crouching on a hill overlooking Delirious’ ranch that was more like a mansion, Evan is starting to wonder if everyone else involved in this cult is a huge hypocrite as well. 

“Isn’t greed a sin?” Evan asks quietly, eyes roaming over the massive expanse of house that Delirious apparently commissioned for himself. He got so rich that he paid for his own house to be specially designed and built around a huge airstrip that’s behind the house. Well, behind the large garden that’s behind the large house that’s behind a large yard that’s behind a large driveway. 

Marcel chuckles. “Everything’s a fuckin’ sin with these people.” 

“Like thievery?” Evan can see Brock’s plane - the horrible shade of yellow that it is - in the hangar towards the back of the property. 

“Del calls it acquisition of resources necessary for preparing for the oncoming Collapse. I call it asking for a bullet in the back.” 

“Is Jonathan here?” 

“No, he rarely actually stays at his ranch. He’s probably in his bunker, each of the brother’s have one for their specific group to stay in during the Collapse and shit. Since Del has the Marshal, he’s probably in the bunker either converting him, or waiting for you. Probably both.” 

“Awesome.” Evan doesn’t have to point out that it is, in fact, not awesome at all. “So how are we gonna get that plane back?” 

There’s at least ten or fifteen cultists patrolling the front of the grounds, definitely some more in the back, and what seems to be like an alarm system that goes around the house. From what Evan can tell, there’s two shut-off points that he would have to reach to disable the alarms; one on the patio that hands off the entire front of the house, and another on the ground, right near the hill the two men are currently sitting on. 

“We’re gonna start off quietly,” Marcel says, shouldering his shotgun in favor of a sniper rifle he apparently had on his backpack. 

Evan stares at him as if he just magically pulled the second weapon out of thin air, which it seems like he pretty much did. 

Marcel shrugs. “Always gotta be prepared. I’ve seen your work, you go in loud and heavy, that won’t work here.”

“It’s worked before.” Evan goes to leave their cover, only to be pulled back by the back of his collar. Marcel damn near yanks him to the ground, ignoring that deputy’s glare, and points at something on the roof. 

“A sniper,” Marcel tells him with a hint of exasperation. 

Evan follows his gaze, and sure enough, there is indeed a sniper up on the roof of the house. He totally didn’t notice that and probably would’ve died from them. 

“Thanks,” He says more than a little begrudgingly. 

“We start off quiet, then we go loud and heavy when we can,” Marcel lays on his stomach, propping his rifle up and aiming right for the sniper on the roof. “I’ll step in with my shotgun if I feel like you need it. Oh shit, before I forget.” Marcel digs into the pocket of his cargo pants that’s on the side of his calf, and pulls out three knives. 

“Throwing knives,” Evan murmurs, taking the weapons carefully. “You remembered.” 

“Use ‘em to silently take out some motherfuckers. Just make sure you get ‘em back, Scotty may or may not know I took them.” 

“Scotty’s gonna kill you when he finds out.” 

“If he were gonna kill me, he would’ve done it a long ass time ago.” Marcel grins, then positioned himself behind his rifle. “Now let’s get this motherfucking plane back.” 

 

Once all the peggies were gone from the ranch, Evan and Marcel take a quick second to check it out, see if there’s anything worth looting.

There’s a first aid kit, some more weapons, ammo, even some cash lying around, but what sparks Evan’s interest is the answering machine in the main entrance. 

Ignoring the fact that there is an outdated answering machine in the very modern house, Evan sees the beeping green light, signifying an unheard message. He presses the button and tries to push away the slight guilt at what is essentially eavesdropping. 

_ “After all the atonements, all the confessions, I had hoped that you would’ve learned that there’s more to his world than pain.” _ Ohm’s familiar voice comes through the machine, patchy and rough, but still firm in his words. 

_ “I had hoped that you would have learned to open your heart, to see that there is more love all around you. All the pain and suffering you spread will only feed the sin inside you. It will grow stronger. It will convince you to do wicked things. Those you scar too deeply will become carriers of your sin. They will spread that sin to others. _

_ I’ve seen your death in a vision. You’re destined to be slain by your own sin. It’s only a matter of when. I’ve seen you die young. I’ve seen you die old. The difference between the two outcomes is how much love you let into your heart. I pray that you hear this message before it’s too late. I want to see you become in an old man in the paradise we prepared for. I love you, brother. I love you.”  _

Evan glances to Marcel, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t know quite what to make of that message. If nothing else, he’s slightly concerned for the sanities of Delirious and Ohm. 

“If I were a psychologist,” Marcel takes a deep breath. “I would say this entire family is more than a little fucked up.” 

Evan nods in heavy agreement. “Good thing we don’t have time to unpack any of that.” He turns his back on the answering machine, wishing that he had never snooped into the lives of these brothers.

 

Getting Brock’s plane back is both easier and harder than Evan suspects - well, hopes - it would be. 

It was easy enough to clear out the peggies around the ranch - Evan managed to disable the alarms so they couldn’t call for backup, and then it was just picking them off from there. 

Though he won’t ever admit it, Marcel is also a huge help to him. Going through this solo would’ve been damn near impossible. 

The hard part comes when Evan has to fly the plane himself. He only has very limited knowledge of flying - like, twice he had taken lessons from Brock - and with Marcel in the other seat screaming at him to not hit a fucking tree, Evan, there’s a tree right there! flying the plane is more than a little stressful. 

Once they’re in the air, Brock comes on the radio, shouting with glee and sounding so happy it reminds Evan of when they were kids. 

_ “Holy crap, you did it! You showed those stupid cultists, you got my plane back! Fly on back, would ya’?”  _

Evan was intending to do just that, until another plane showed up. 

“That’s a peggie plane,” Marcel supplies unhelpfully. 

“Oh great, a fucking dogfight with an amateur pilot,” Evan groans. “At least tell me you have something to shoot them with?” 

_ “He has access to the controls for the machine guns, just please don’t get killed. Or break my plane.”  _

“You’re concern is touching,” Evan mutters, trying his best to avoid the other plane. Whoever that asshole is can actually go fuck themself. 

It only takes about ten minutes, but eventually, Marcel is able to shoot down the peggie plane. He watches it go down with a triumphant smile and cheers when it explodes as it hits the ground. 

Evan would celebrate with him, but he’s busy trying to orient himself to Brock’s airstrip so he can focus on landing. 

Surprisingly, he manages to pull it off with only minor yelling from Marcel about the rough landing. Evan pulls the plane up to the house, where Brock is standing and looking ecstatic. 

“You did it!” Brock shouts as soon as the plane is stopped and the two men are exiting it. “LAUREN, THE PLANE’S BACK!” He shouts, circling around said vehicle to ensure there’s no major damage. 

“YEAH, I HEARD!” A distinctly feminine voice answers

Evan backs away from the plan, relishing in the feeling of his feet on the ground. Then his stomach flips and he folds over, holding his guts and hoping that he doesn’t puke. 

“You good?” Marcel asks, grin evident in his voice. 

“Fuck you,” Evan huffs, shutting his eyes and keeping his face turned to the ground.

“Lauren, let’s go!” Brock shouts to the house, then gestures to Marcel. “Help me turn her around.” 

Evan stands off to the side as the two men turn the plane around. 

“This plane’s in my family for three generations - Lauren, hurry up! - thank you guys so much for getting her back to us. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough - Lauren!” 

“I’m coming!” Brock’s wife shouts from the window. 

“That woman sometimes,” Brock looks at Evan like he can’t understand what’s taking her so long. “Anyway, thank you again, this truly means so much to me-” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Evan says. He doesn’t feel like he’s about to puke anymore, and takes his friend into a great hug. “You know I’d do anything for you, man.” 

“Brock!” Lauren yells from the house, shoving open a window and leaning out as much as she can. “There’s peggies comin’!” 

Just as she says that, two other planes fly way too close to them, raining fire as they go. 

“Look, I’m better in the air but you two are beasts on the ground. I’ll hit ‘em high, you hit ‘em low what'dya say? Here we go!” Brock says, looking frantically between the two of them before hopping in his plane and taking off. 

Evan looks at Marcel, who pumps his shotgun with a grin. 

“Let’s fuck some  _ more _ shit up!” 

 

The ensuing battle is rough if nothing else. 

Three trucks’ worth of peggies arrive on the airstrip to take back the plane - two of those trucks have mounted guns as well. 

Evan’s tasked with defending the house from any cultists arriving from that direction, keeping them as far away from Lauren as he possibly can. 

He hears Marcel’s shouts as explosions ring out. He goes to check on them but spray of fire coming that direction effectively pins him to the wall.

He hears the offending peggie approach from the side way he was going to go. He waits until they’re close enough, then hits them as hard as he can with the automatic rifle he picked up from one of the dead peggies along the way. 

Evan shoots the downed cultist, wincing at the blood splatter. He doesn’t allow himself to think on it any longer; he goes to check on Marcel and Brock, who have made quick work of the rest of the attackers. 

Marcel’s sitting on the ground and watching as Brock lands the plane, then once more helps him turn it over. 

“Oh, my God!” Brock cried, shaking his head with a wild grin. “We did it! They’ll think twice about messing with my family again. Come on, you guys can help us with the luggage.” He turns on his heels and walks back to his house. 

“Luggage?” Marcel silently parrots at Evan, who shrugs in response. 

They don’t even make it to the porch until Brock comes back out the door, carrying a suitcase and setting it down near the plane.

“Come on, Lauren, we’re leaving,” Brock says, nodding at the other two men as he heads back inside where his very pregnant wife is waiting for the three of them. 

“No,” Lauren says. She waits for Evan and Marcel to step inside before she goes to block the door. 

“No?” Brock barely glances at her before gesturing for Evan to follow him. 

“This is our home, we can’t just leave!” Lauren watches as Brock places a suitcase in Evan’s hands, then another in Marcel’s. 

“Lauren, you don’t understand-” 

“Don’t understand what?” She grabs the suitcase from Evan’s hands, throwing it onto the floor and grabbing Marcel’s. “That they’re stealing our land and kidnapping our friends and doing God knows what else?” 

“Lauren…” Brock walks past her, almost at the door. But he couldn’t go any further. 

“Brock. Your grandfather built this place. You really wanna turn your back on that?” 

Brock thinks for a moment, but he shakes his head. He looks frustrated, desperate, and exhausted all at once. He goes for the last suitcase, but Lauren steps into his way, her hands finding their way to his arms.

“And what about all those times you talked about handing the business off to our daughter?” 

“I talked about handing the business off to our son.” 

“You saw the ultrasound, it’s a girl.” 

“That was a on a messy black and white TV screen, you know those aren’t reliable!” He looks to Evan for back up, but even Brock can tell his argument is weak. 

“Brock…” 

Silently, Brock shifts on his feet, having an internal war with himself. He meets his wife’s gaze, then his eyes drop down to her stomach. He sighs and places one hand on her stomach. 

Lauren smiles, looking at Evan with such fondness for her husband that for the moment, it restores Evan’s belief in humanity.

“I love you,” Brock says eventually, voice tight with emotion. 

Lauren softly chuckles. “Me too.” 

His other hand goes to her stomach, and hers rest on top of them. They stay like that for a moment, then Brock lets go and faces the other two people that they had momentarily forgotten were in their house. 

“Well, guys, guess we’re digging our feet in.” He grabs the suitcase from the porch and the other that his wife had thrown onto the floor, and places them back on the stares. “If you ever need air support, you just let me know. We’ll be like Butch and Sundance.”

“They both died at the end,” Lauren says, concern peeking through her calm smile. 

Brock looks at her for a second, then shakes his head. “Nah,” he says as he takes the suitcases upstairs. 

Lauren watches him for a moment, then turns to Marcel and Evan. “Take care of him, boys.” 

“Of course,” Marcel says, placing his hand on her shoulder. 

“And anything you need, let us know,” Evan adds. 

Lauren smiles, looking at both of them with affection. “One of these days, I’ll cook dinner for all of us. You-” She turns to Evan, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Have to catch us up on your life.” 

“I’d like that,” Evan admits.

 

The drive back to Fall’s End would’ve been peaceful - just Evan and Marcel talking shit like old times - but then the radio at Evan’s side buzzed. 

_ “I know who you are, Deputy.”  _

Evan slams his foot on the brakes, ignoring Marcel’s pointed look as he yanks the radio off his belt. He puts on the dashboard, and stares. 

He knows that voice anywhere. It’s muffled, both with static and presumably a hockey mask, and Evan’s exhausted from so much fighting, but he knows that voice anywhere. 

_ “You always were a terrific pain in the ass, and now, here you are. Killing my men and stealing our resources.”  _

Evan grabs for the receiver but he doesn’t know what he would say. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to someone like Delirious. 

_ “You know, you’re Marshal has been a wonderful guest. Not very talkative, but that’s alright. He is well on his way to atonement. He’s said Yes, don’t you know. I just need you to say Yes too.”  _

The line is silent, as if he’s waiting for Evan to say something. When the deputy stays quiet, he’s quick to continue.

_ “Don’t worry, though. I’ll be there to help you through the entire process. I won’t quit until you confess your sins and atone for each of them. I already know your sin, Deputy. I wonder if you do. It’s no worry to me, though. I’ll find you, Deputy. It’s inevitable. Have a good night. Celebrate your brief victories. Indulge your sins for one last night.”  _

The radio cuts out, signaling the end of that cheerful conversation. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Evan whispers. He probably doesn’t need to whisper, but he can’t help the feeling that they’re being listened to. 

Marcel shrugs and leans back in his seat. “Sounds like Delirious ain’t happy with the shit you’ve pulled, and tomorrow he’s gonna come after you for it. So I would suggest getting blackout drunk tonight. If you drink enough, it might carry over to tomorrow. Or give you alcohol poisoning. Either way, win-win I think.” 

“I’ll think about,” Evan says. He probably won’t drink too much, but a glass of  _ something _ is definitely in his future. As well as a good night’s sleep with the hopes that nightmares don’t plague him. 

 

The next morning, after moderate drinking leaving him a light hangover, Evan tries to head out alone. He tries his best to nicely leave Marcel behind, but the other man is so damn stubborn that he can’t. 

So together they head out, intending to go help some people that Brian said were stationed north of the town. 

They’re barely five minutes outside the town when the tires of their truck get shot out. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ it’s happening!” Marcel swerves the truck into the side of the road and shoves Evan out. “Fucking run, don’t worry about me, just go!” 

“I’m not leaving you!” Evan grabs Marcel’s arm and drags him into the forest next to them. 

Marcel stumbles, leg getting yanked out from under by a tree root. He falls, landing with a heavy grunt. 

Evan tries to look around them, but all he can see is fucking trees. 

“Fucking go!” Marcel’s holding his leg. Blood is leaking between his fingers. “They shot me, just go!” 

“I’ll come back for you,” Evan promises before doing as he’s told. He sprints in a different direction, hoping to both draw attention away from his friend as well as escaping into the deeper woods. 

Whoever is after him is a seasoned hunter, though. It’s probably a group, one of the capture parties Nogla had warned him about. 

Pain erupts in his left thigh, making his legs give out. Evan faceplants the ground as white sparkles dot his vision. His thigh is pulsing, but his head is growing fuzzy. The pain is fading too. He feels… lighter.

He can vaguely hear someone approaching from both sides. 

Someone enters his peripheral vision. It looks like two or three someones, but his eyes can’t fucking focus. 

The last thing he’s aware of is being hoisted onto someone’s shoulders. Then he sinks into this weird, slightly euphoric unconsciousness.

He dreams of flying.


	5. boom boom boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan comes face to face with Delirious, then proceeds to blow some shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's rushed as hell, but here it is

Evan is harshly yanked back to consciousness by water filling his lungs. 

He starts thrashing within the grip of whoever is holding him. Out of habit he coughs, worsening his situation tenfold. Trying to breath while you’re being held underwater is not the way to go about this situation.

His chest burns and he can’t fucking see who’s doing this to him. He tries to elbow the person at his side, but his movements are slowed by the water. 

Just as his vision starts fading, he’s pulled from the water by his arms. 

Evan gasps. He tries to cough and breath at the same time and can only wonder why that plan is failing so poorly. 

He feels someone’s arms loop around each of his, the two people effectively holding him in place. 

He shakes his head, trying to dispel the water dripping off him. 

He can vaguely hear someone preaching in the background. 

He tries to focus on his surroundings.

It isn’t really going well. His vision is pulsing and his body feels light. 

There’s a river. He’s in a river, with two other civilians and a group of peggies. There’s a couple green barrels on the shore. They’re empty, their contents having been poured into the river. It’s gotta be that ‘Bliss’ shit or whatever.

One man stands in the center of them all, holding a white book in the air and preaching loudly. His voice is as recognizable as ever, even with Evan’s brains kinda scrambled from his near drowning.

“We must wash away our pasts,” He says, slowly walking through the shallow water to the two civilians being held by a couple peggies each. “We must expose our sins. We must atone, for only then may we stand in the light of God and walk through His gate unto Eden.” His voice rises then lowers, a crescendo of both volume and passion. He’s enrapturing if nothing else. 

Delirious gestures to his people, who start bringing the civilians closer to him. He greets the first one - a woman, violently shivering in the hands of her captors. He touches her on the side of her head with his hand that isn’t holding open the white book, then lets the peggies carry her past him. He does the same with the other civilian, a man, and then it’s Evan’s turn. 

Delirious looks at Evan with a tilt of his head. He’s wearing his hockey mask as usual, but his eyes are readable as ever. Evan can see the storm in the harsh sapphire of his eyes, the rage threatening to take over. 

Delirious shuts his white book - no doubt a bastardized Bible of some sort - and holds his hand out to the man on Evan’s right. “Not this one,” He says, authority clear in his voice. He hands his book off the man on the right, then stands closer to Evan. He stares for a moment, eyes flickering with something that Evan would prefer to not understand. “This one’s not clean,” He mutters. 

He lunges at the deputy, hands on his shoulders and forces him back under the water with so much force that it knocks the precious air out of Evan’s lungs. His head hits the rocks underneath the water. His vision rolls around and around, and those familiar white spots are dancing across it too. 

The Bliss-tainted water floods his lungs once more, threatening his lucidity with dancing white spots and a fluffy feeling coating his mind.

Delirious pulls Evan back up, coughing and spluttering. He searches Evan’s eyes but apparently doesn’t find what he wants. He goes to push Evan back under, but is stopped by a voice so powerful that even Evan pauses. 

“Do you mock the Cleansing, Delirious?” 

Jonathan’s shoulders fall. He looks back at Evan, but his eyes are shrouded, covered, protected. He steps to the side so Evan can see the Prophet himself standing on the shore, looking at the display with apparent disapproval. 

“No, Ohm.” Delirious’ voice is clipped, his words rushed to the point where they slur together. A stark contrast to his preaching from just a few moments ago.

Ohm shushes his brother, though it’s with a touch of affection. “You have to love them, Delirious.” Ohm points at the deputy, who can barely focus on him. “Don’t let your sin prevent that.” 

Maybe it’s the drugs, but Evan is convinced that Ohm is not of this world. The man stands, taller than them on the shore, the headlights from the truck behind him bathing in him in a golden outline. He seems very talented in standing in lights so that they outline his frame.

“Bring that one to me,” Ohm commands.

Delirious is quick to comply; he gently takes Evan’s arm, and leads him through the shallow water where Ohm waits with open arms. Evan stumbles on the shore, the lack of water pulling at his shoes tripping him. 

Ohm catches him, placing his hands on Evan’s arms. His hands are warm, almost too warm. He looks the deputy in the eyes, despite his own being covered by that damn blindfold. “Despite all that you have done, you are not beyond salvation,” he says slowly,  and confidently. “You are not here by accident or by chance. You are here by the Grace of God. You’ve been given a gift. Now it remains to be seen whether you choose to embrace it…” he brings a hand up to cup Evan’s cheek. “Or to cast it aside.” 

Ohm’s hands leave Evan, who hates that he misses the warmth of a gentle touch. Ohm turns to his brother, whose eyes are glued to his shoes. 

“This one shall reach atonement,” Ohm brings his hand up the back his brother’s neck, and presses their foreheads together. It’s a gesture so intimate that Evan feels weird for watching it. “Or the Gates of Eden shall be shut to you, Jonathan.” 

Delirious’ eyes are closed. “Yes, Ohm.”

The Prophet runs his hand through his brother’s hair once, then leaves. Delirious opens his eyes to watch his brother go. 

Evan forces himself to look away. 

Once Ohm’s gone from the scene, Delirious turns to Evan, a renewed hatred glittering his piercing eyes. 

“You will confess,” He states, mood turning from a brother being scolded to someone who will go to great lengths to get what he wants. “Every sin you’ve ever committed, no matter how petty, no matter how small, I pull it from you. Then we will see if you’re worthy of Atonement.” He nods to the peggie next to them, then turns and leaves. 

The peggie takes Evan back into his grip, and leads him away from the drugged river towards a van. 

Evan’s wrists are bound with plastic zip-ties , and then he’s pushed into the van with enough force to send him to his wobbly knees. He bites back any comments in favor of sitting on the empty end of the bench. Someone shuts the doors to the van, and then they’re off, driving to God knows where. 

There are three other people in the van with Evan, not counting the driver. There’s the other two people who got baptised - if you can call violently being pushed under water contaminated with drugs a baptism - and a peggie who’s sitting with an automatic rifle across his lap. 

The man next to Evan is shivering horribly, though whether out of fear or his clothes being soaked with cold river water, he doesn’t know. 

“I-if we just confess, everything will be okay, right?” The man asks, flicking his eyes to everyone in the van. He sounds more terrified than anything. 

The woman across from Evan shakes her head, already looking as if she’s given up. “No, you’ll just make it worse,” She bemoans, letting her head rest against the side of the van. 

“Why, why n-not?” 

“Because a confession without pain is not true,” The peggie says as he reaches out to touch the man’s knee. “Only pain will help you repent for your sins and clean your soul. It’s a beautiful thing.” 

Evan wonders if the peggie truly knows what beautiful is. Being maimed doesn’t really fit that definition, but to each his own. 

He’s about to ask how long the ride will be - his wet clothes are becoming more than just a slight nuisance at this point - when something massive hits the van, pushing it off the road entirely. 

It flips over and over, and it feels like Evan’s thrown back into the helicopter as it lands upside down, throwing the passengers to and fro. He should never have come back to this county.

Evan can see the two civilians get knocked unconscious, the peggie’s rifle going flying, his own body landing in a horribly uncomfortable position. 

Before the van even comes to a complete stop, Evan’s trying to shoulder open the doors. The peggie is moving already, grabbing for their rifle but then they get shot in the chest before they can close their fingers around the barrel. 

Someone’s throwing open the doors, grabbing Evan and hoisting them over their shoulders and running. 

“Goddamn you’re heavy,” The person carrying him - someone with a heavy accent that slurs horribly - says as they run into the forest. 

“You’re tall,” Evan mumbles in return. And they are; at least six feet, definitely more. He watches the ground pass under his rescuer’s feet and tries not to vomit from being jostled around so damn much. 

Then another door is opened, and Evan’s thrown so he’s lying on his back on a much softer surface. The door closes, an engine rumbles to life and he’s moving again. 

“Fuck, you made it out!” A different accented voice is talking very quickly and very loudly. 

“Almost didn’t, the other car was almost too damn close to only get the van. I think I fucked me neck, too.” 

“Hitting a van full on like that would do it, dumbfuck.” 

“What the hell happened?” Evan asks, trying his best to sit up. His head hurts - scratch that, his entire body hurts - but he can see and hear just fine. Kinda. Just kinda fine. He realizes that he’s in a car with Brian and Nogla. His heart warms at the thought of them coming to his rescue, even if he’s a little upset they put themselves in harm’s way just for him.

“You’re dumbass got captured, so we stepped in and saved ya’,” Brian says, taking his eyes off the road to make sure the deputy is okay. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Did anything happen?” Nogla asks, digging for something in the bag at his feet. It looks like a normal bookbag, but Evan doesn’t care enough to focus his vision to be sure. 

“Jonathan tried to drown me but Ohm stepped in. Said some prophecy shit, then Jon basically threatened me with confession and atonement and all that.”

“Wait, Ohm was there?” Nogla stops his search to meet Evan’s gaze with furrowed brows. 

“Is he normally not?” 

“He’s everywhere and nowhere all at the same damn time,” Brian remarks. “But no, he’s not normally there at those kinds of baptisms. They’re like the beginning level of Jon’s reign of terror. You’re lucky we got you before the next step-” 

“ _ Fuck,  _ where’s Marcel?” Evan brings his hands to his head, gripping at his hair to stabilize himself. 

“Marcel’s fine,” Nogla says quickly, handing him a bottle of water he dug out of his bag. “When you two were shot with the Bliss bullets, Delirious just left him there. He only wanted you.” 

Evan decides to ignore the fact that Delirious definitely has a vendetta against him. “Bliss bullets? Is that the stupid drug that’s apparently everywhere?” 

“Yeah, Smitty’s responsible for it. It comes from the Bliss flowers, too much of it and you basically become a zombie. No turnin’ back, either.” Nogla’s voice hardens, as if he’s seen it firsthand. 

“Fuck,” Evan sinks into his seat. He rests his head against the headrest. A feeling of dread builds in his guts. He doesn’t know what he’s dreading - probably everything at this point.

He forces the bad thoughts away though. Right now, he just wants to change into dry clothes and sleep for twelve hours.

 

_ “You’re not off the hook quite yet, Deputy.”  _

Evan winces at the sudden noise; he had meant to leave his radio back at what passed for his apartment at Fall’s End.  Evan couldn’t sleep, so he took a hike into the woods by himself just before dawn. He had only wanted a peaceful morning to himself, a chance to calm down after the events that had taken place only hours ago. 

The feeling of cold water forcing itself into his lungs and warm hands on his shoulders hasn’t left him quite yet. He doesn’t think it ever will. 

_ “You’re little friends won’t stand in the way for long,”  _ Delirious continues, as if there’s no better sound in the world than his voice coming through a shitty handheld radio.  _ “Although their loyalty to you is… touching, it’s misguided. Do they not realize that in worshipping a sinner, they only prevent their own salvation?”  _ His tone is reprimanding, as if he’s gone over this same line a million times. He probably has. 

Evan goes to respond. He holds the receiver, finger hovering over the button he needs to press to make himself heard. 

He can’t press it. He doesn’t know what the fuck he should say.

_ “I don’t mind the wait, though. I’m a patient man, after all.”  _

That makes Evan want to laugh. From what he remembers, Jonathan was never even a little bit patient. 

_ “I’ll see you soon enough. Also, I noticed that you took my home in the name of your little ‘Resistance’.”  _

Evan had almost forgotten about that. He was in such a rush to help Brock that the fact that he had stolen Jonathan’s  _ house _ from under him went right over his head. 

_ “Don’t worry, I’ll get it back, sooner or later. And when I do, maybe I’ll hang your skin above the mantle like a trophy.”  _ There’s a click, signaling that Delirious is done with this conversation. 

Good timing, too. Evan feels like he wants to throw up right about now. It’s becoming a familiar feeling. 

 

Word soon spreads throughout the county of this man, this Junior Deputy from the police department in the county over. This Evan Fong who’s apparently the only person who can free the county from the clutches of the Project at Eden’s Gate. 

Of course, Evan knows that there are other people - Nogla and Brian and their Resistance, for starters - that are doing what they can to hurt the cult. 

But for some reason, it seems as if everyone is relying solely on Evan to get rid of the threat for once and for all. 

He tries not to think about it too much. He hates disappointing people. He also wants to help every single person who needs it, but he’s just one person. 

So Evan spends his time in Holland Valley, helping where he can. 

He’s going all over the county, freeing people when they get captured, taking back the farmland that was stolen, doing this and doing that. 

 

He goes with Nogla to this one farm up in the northern end of the valley, where there was chatter about this family that had gone silent in the last week. 

Nogla wanted to go because he knew this family had a couple of dogs, named Joe and Tony. He wanted to be sure they were alright. 

When the two of them get to the farm, Evan feels sick. 

A couple of peggies are standing next to these two cages, built for much larger animals than the relatively small dogs they had stuffed into them. 

The family is nowhere to be seen. 

Nogla doesn’t waste any time in putting the peggies down. He unlocks the two cages, and watches as the two dogs sniff around a bit before heading off to where three bodies are lying on the ground. 

The darker-spotted dog goes to lay beside the dead woman, whimpering with enough pain to make Evan’s heart break. 

The other dog goes to the body that’s much too small, nuzzling the corpse’s hand. 

“Bastards,” Nogla seethes. 

Evan’s never seen his friend so angry. He doubts he himself has ever been this angry. 

He helps Nogla bury the dead family and take the dogs back to Fall’s End. They’re soon become a normal sight around the town; Joe and Tony trailing behind the tall Irishman. 

A couple days after that, Evan and Brock go and help one woman who’s protecting the only other church in the entire county that hasn’t been stolen and defaced in the name of the cult. 

The woman, Grace, is an excellent sniper. Her father, a war hero, is buried at the church along with a few others. Evan and Brock help her protect them all from the peggies who want the destroy their tombstones. 

Once the tombstones are safe - for now anyway - Grace offers to accompany Evan, to watch his back. He thanks her, but declines. She seems to be at peace with his refusal; she sits on the ground next to her father’s grave, rifle on her lap and sun on her face. 

 

A day later, and Scotty and Marcel trade places. Marcel goes to the bunker to manage the sidelines while Scotty tags along with Evan. 

What Scotty brings along with him is a bit concerning: he brings a duffel bag full of explosives, claiming that he can rig them up to blow up with a remote. 

“We gotta blow up Delirious’ stupid fuckin’ sign,” Scotty announces on the second day of him being out and about with the deputy.

Evan pauses eating his sandwich to look at the sign being referred to. They’re sitting on a hill that gives them a special view of it. It’s a monument to Jon’s pride if nothing else. 

Constructed in giant letters reminiscent of the Hollywood sign reads “Yes”, standing on the hill to the west of the valley. It’s massive and pretty ugly. 

Evan had noticed it on his first night in the Fall’s End; it’s visible from anywhere in the valley. He wouldn’t mind blowing it up. 

“Won’t that piss Jon off like so much?” Evan asks, setting down his sandwich in favor of water. 

“That’s the point, brother.” Scotty already ate his sandwich; he’s looking at the sign with a special kind of hatred that one reserves for the ugliest of lawn ornaments. “We’re already close to it, let’s just fucking wreck it.” 

Evan begins to think that they headed out west that morning just so Scotty could use it as an excuse to blow up the sign. 

“Fine. Let me finish my damn sammich first.” 

“Sammich?” 

“You heard me.” 

An hour later, and Evan’s stringing up bundles of explosives up and down the Yes sign like he’s decorating a fucked-up Christmas tree. He has to use his grappling hook to get to the top of the letters which he isn’t stoked about. Falling to his death trying to blow up an ugly ass sign isn’t how he planned on leaving this earth.

Scotty’s on the ground, telling him where to put what. It takes a couple hours to get it all finished; by the end of it the Yes sign is dotted with bundles of C4 and is ready to blow. 

“When the fuck did you learn how to do this?” Evan asks once his feet as firmly back on the ground.

“This is America, ain’t it? So I don’t gotta answer that.” Scotty has his back to the sign, looking for a good vantage point to view the explosion. He sees a hill not too far from them and points to it. “We have to get there, then we can blow this bitch sky high.” 

The explosion really is sky high. The sign is obliterated with a single moment. Shards of it fly everywhere, covering the ground and everything around them. A piece of it cuts through Evan’s pants, lodging itself in his leg. He doesn’t even notice as he’s too busy admiring his and Scotty’s work.

The smaller man whoops and cheers at the destruction, bouncing up and down in his excitement.

Evan’s radio buzzes, and a cold voice effectively kills the mood. 

_ “My men spent weeks working on that, pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into making sure that sign was perfect. And you go and destroy it in an instant. As penance, I think I’ll have you rebuild it, working you down to the bone. And when you’re done, I’ll bury you underneath it.”  _

Scotty raises his eyebrows at that. “Delirious really doesn’t like you.”

“He knows where we are, we should get going,” Evan drags Scotty down the hill by his arm, ignoring the smaller man’s protests. He freezes about just before they get to their truck; a small group of peggies, the ones sent in the hunting parties, are scoping their vehicle out. 

“Shit,” Scotty hisses, dropping to the ground. “He fuckin’ sent the Chosen, of course he did. What the fuck do we do?” 

Evan crouches beside him, having already made up his mind about his next move. “ _ We _ aren’t doing anything.  _ You _ are going to run the fuck away from them while I draw their attention.” 

“I’m not leaving yo-” 

“They only want me,” Evan interrupts. His hands go to Scotty’s shoulders, eyes desperately searching for some sort of understanding. “If they get me, you can go safe. Go back to Fall’s End, tell them what’s happened. Get back to Marcel in one piece. I’ll be fine.” 

“He’ll kill you.”

“Better me than you.” Evan brings Scotty in for a hug, then shoves him back in the direction of the wrecked sign. “Go!” 

Scotty doesn’t leave, still looking between Evan and those Chosen. 

Evan sighs. He takes out his pistol and turns his back on his friend. He lines up his sight, then shoots the nearest Chosen in what he hopes is the shoulder. Then he sprints towards the truck, firing towards the ground a couple times just to be sure that he’s gotten their attention. 

It’s pure mayhem, but only for a second.

It takes a single Bliss bullet, and Evan’s vision is swimming in that painfully familiar way. He keeps shooting, keeps running, keeps hoping that Scotty gets away.

Then he collapses in the grass and falls unconscious. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another cliffhanger, sorry but it had to be done


	6. nope, don't like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious forces Evan to confess. It doesn't go well for either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I never properly disclosed the ages of the boys which I did play around with for the purpose of my story:  
> Tyler: Age 35  
> Ohm: Age 33  
> Delirious: Age 28  
> Smitty: Age 24  
> Evan: Age 34
> 
> Also, the tags have been updated, so please check those out as there's some pretty heavy stuff in this chapter, mainly dark religious stuff and a bit of torture.
> 
> All that aside, I hope y'all enjoy!

Evan half-expects to be drowning when he wakes up again. But he isn’t. 

He goes to rub at his eyes, but of course he can’t. His hands are bound again, to the arms of the uncomfortable chair he’s forced to sit in. His legs are crossed and bound at the ankles. This time, it’s with heavy duty rope instead of plastic zip ties. The knots are tight too; they won’t budge no matter how hard Evan tries.

There’s someone else with him, seated in front of him. He can’t make out their face. The lighting in the room is poor, but from what he can tell, the floors and walls are metal. 

Which probably means they’re in a bunker - Marcel had mentioned that the Wreckers had three of them built, to wait out the Collapse. Being in a bunker also means that an outside rescue is damn near impossible. 

Evan looks up in exasperation, and sees a chandelier made of antlers hanging from the ceiling. Now he’s questioning Jonathan’s choice of interior decorating. What kind of weird torture chamber needs a chandelier? 

There’s a workbench off to the side, with one of those wall things attached to it for hanging tools and shit. 

The other person begins to stir, reigning in Evan’s attention. They lift their head, and just groan when they realize they’re bound to a chair. As if they’re used to this happening. 

When they look at Evan, they groan even louder, which is just hurtful. 

“Of course it’s fuckin’ you,” They grumble in a voice that’s all too familiar. 

“Luke?” Evan strains to try and get a good look at the other person’s face, but he’s pretty sure it’s the damn Marshal sitting across from him. 

“No, it’s fuckin’ Santa Claus.” 

“Alright then.” Evan tests the restraints around his wrists again, but they are definitely not budging - nothing’s changed in approximately thirty seconds, great. “Are you okay?” Almost instantly, Evan realizes that’s a stupid fucking question.

“Not really, but you’ll find out soon enough.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Luke doesn’t answer because someone else enters the room with them. 

The new person sets a bowl down on the table that’s next to Evan, then walks over to the workbench and sets down a toolbox. They’re whistling while they set up their stuff, wiping off the bench with their hands and taking out a little box. 

They cease their whistling, and turn to face Evan, leaning on the workbench and one foot crossing the other. 

Evan finds himself staring the terribly familiar, unblinking eyes of Delirious. His mask is pushed up over his head but he’s still wearing that clown makeup.

The same clown makeup that Evan had helped him perfect when they were younger, when they were friends. He hasn’t changed how he does his makeup in over ten years.

Luke coughs once, enough to startle Delirious out of glaring at Evan.

“Shit, I forgot you were here!” He goes over to the Marshal, clicking his tongue as he goes behind the chair. “Confessions are meant to be private, man. You gotta go back to your room.” 

“You’re grounding me already? I didn’t even do shit.” Luke seems unbothered by the man behind him, but Evan can see the tension in his body, the pure stillness of his entire being. 

“Don’t worry,” Delirious pats the Marshal’s shoulder, then starts pushing him towards the door behind Evan. “You’re atonement isn’t even close to being finished, perhaps we can work on that later tonight.” 

“Can’t wait.” 

Delirious opens the door, and calls out to a random peggie for them to take the Marshal back to his room. Then he shoves Luke out of the room and closes the door. 

Now it’s just Evan and Delirious in a torture dungeon at the bottom of an underground bunker. 

“Funnily enough, it was my adopted parents who were the first ones to teach me about the power of yes.” Delirious goes over to the workbench, and takes something out of the toolbox. It looks like a scrap of some fabric or something; he holds it to the wall, and staples it there with a very loud staple gun. In the light, it looks like… leather? Leather that’s been carved into. The word ‘envy’ is barely legible on the dried piece of whatever that is. Evan hopes it isn’t skin, but he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what it is. 

“One night, they took me into the kitchen, and threw me onto the ground, and I experienced pain after pain after pain after _ pain _ .” Delirious emphasizes this last ‘pain’ by slamming the staple gun onto the workbench. He meets Evan’s eyes, his own glittering with what Evan can only describe as a sick excitement. “And when I didn’t think I could take anymore, I did. Something broke free inside, I wasn’t scared, I was… clear.” 

Delirious takes something else out of the toolbox and brings it over to Evan. He plugs it into a cord that was lying near the bound deputy, and holds it out so he can see what it is. 

It’s a tattoo gun. It looks like a nice one too, all shiny and cared for. Evan sees that Delirious’ arms are covered in tattoos, even his hands. Words, all in fine calligraphy, surround small designs that litter the exposed skin. 

“I looked up at them, and I started to laugh. All I could say was… yes. I spent my entire life looking for things to say yes too.” Delirious steps closer to Evan, then suddenly reaches forward and beings unbuttoning his flannel. 

Evan tries to protest, but a hand clamps down on his mouth and Delirious has gotten too good at sending threats with just a raised eyebrow. 

“But it was Ohm who found me, who showed me just how selfish I was being, always taking, always receiving,” Delirious says, continuing to unbutton the deputy’s shirt. “The best gift isn’t the one you get, it’s the one you give, and giving takes courage.” Once his shirt is open, Delirious grabs the bowl next to him. It’s filled with soapy water and a sponge; he begins cleaning Evan’s chest carefully, making sure to rub away all the dirt, sweat, and blood that’s accumulated. 

“The courage to own your sin, to etch it onto your flesh and when you have endured - when you have truly begun to atone - to cut it out like a cancer and display it for all to see… my God, that’s courage.” Delirious smiles at him, and holds out his left arm so Evan can see the word ‘Pride’ that takes up the majority of his forearm. 

Delirious slowly backs away, eyes never leaving Evan. “I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say yes so you can confront your weaknesses, confront your sin!” His volume is rising along with the passion of his words. “You will swim across an  _ ocean  _ of  _ pain _ and emerge…  _ free.  _ For only then can you truly begin to atone.” He takes one more thing out of the toolbox - it’s a fucking screwdriver that’s obviously been sharpened and also looks like it’s teeming with tetanus. He points it at the deputy, his body all tense lines but coiling with a special energy that comes from pure hatred. 

“And you have more than enough to atone for, Evan Fong.” 

Evan swallows, feeling tears brimming and threatening to fall. He doesn’t really know what to say to all that. 

Evan’s last memory of Delirious - of Jonathan - was when he was almost 18, and Jon was maybe 12 or 13. They were playing out in the woods, in the treehouse that Evan and Tyler had built together over the course of like, two months. 

Evan remembers Jon jumping from the treehouse, landing on Evan’s back, screaming “Get down, Mr. President!” 

Now, Jonathan is all grown up and angry and kinda psychopathic. 

Evan doesn’t know how to deal with that, but he does know that he’s got a bitch of a headache going on right now.

Delirious pulls a random plastic chair in front of Evan, and sits himself down. He places the screwdriver on his lap, crosses his arms, and looks at Evan expectantly. 

“This your time to Confess, Evan. Every sin, no matter how petty it may seem.” Maybe the words are meant to sound encouraging, but they really just sound threatening. 

Evan remains silent, unable to look at the man in front of him. 

Delirious takes his silence as unwilling to cooperate. “Fine, I’ll go first. I confess that I let my wrath get the better of me during your baptism. Ohm helped me repent for that, if you care to see.” 

Before Evan can say that he doesn’t want to, Delirious is taking off the blue jacket he’s wearing - has always been wearing - tossing it over the back of his chair. Under it is a simple t-shirt. He turns his left arm, the one with pride on it, to show Evan the word ‘wrath’ carved - not tattoed, but  _ fucking carved into his skin _ \- taking the entirety of his upper arm.

“Holy shit,” Evan breathes. “What the fuck? Why would you do that, that’s horrible, oh my God, what the  _ fuck _ ?” His words are jumbled because why the fuck would anyone willingly do that and oh, god are they gonna do that to him? 

“It’s all part of the process,” Delirious says, so fucking calmly. “Part of the atonement, part of the purification.”

“It’s fucking sick,” Evan is really trying his best not to throw up right on the man that would probably mutilate him for it. 

“You have an issue with atonement, but not with the sins you have committed?” Delirious bothers to sound astounded. 

Evan doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m not leaving you until you confess at least one sin.” 

“Okay,” Evan manages, bringing his gaze up to meet those carefully guarded blue eyes. “One time…” He coughs, finding it difficult to speak. “One time, I borrowed one of Tyler’s jackets without asking.” 

Delirious stills for a single second before he stands up so forcefully that he knocks his chair over. He goes back to pacing, twisting both his hands around the screwdriver. “Don’t you dare,” He seethes, pointing the tool directly at Evan. “Don’t fucking mention him, you don’t deserve to!”

Evan looks to the floor again. He regrets saying anything about Tyler. It hurts him just as much as it pisses off Delirious. Still being protective of his older brother, still defending him even years later. 

“Sorry,” Evan murmurs. He really is.

Delirious takes a deep breath, puts the chair back, and sits down again. “Why don’t we work backwards,” he suggests, still sounding like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Confess your latest sin.” 

Evan shrugs. He doesn’t want to say something wrong again. 

“I can’t confess your sins for you, man. That’s not how this works.” 

“What do you think my last sin was?” Evan asks, because he sure as hell doesn’t know. 

“What happened to my Yes sign?” Delirious asks like it he doesn’t know, like he wants to hear about it. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh. Tell me about that, Deputy.” He spits the title as if it were poison. 

Evan really hopes that Scotty made it to safety; the thought of him having to go through this too… no, he can’t think like that right now. 

“My friend and I rigged your sign with explosives and blew it to pieces,” Evan says as if he were discussing a normal day at work. He’s too tired for this. 

“The sign that my men spent months working on,” Delirious adds, venom underlining his voice. “That was their atonement, their path to Eden, and now… it’s gone. Just like that. All their hard work manifested into a literal sign of salvation, and you didn’t care. You just blew it up with your scrawny little friend.” 

“If it helps, it wasn’t my idea,” Evan tries. 

Delirious scoffs. “You didn’t fight it. Sounds like wrath to me. Wrath for the sake of wrath, destruction for the sake of destruction. Not to mention the countless followers you’ve killed since you got here.” 

Evan’s jaw clenches. “I didn’t want to,” he mutters, wishing now more than ever that he was anywhere but here. 

“And yet, you continue. And for what? To fight my brothers and I, to fight the salvation we want to give you?” Delirious leans in closer, using the screwdriver to tilt Evan’s head up so he’s forced to look into his eyes. “Ohm says that we can’t kill you, that you’re important to us for some reason that even he doesn’t know yet.” He falls silent, watching Evan’s reaction for a moment. 

Apparently he doesn’t find whatever it was he was looking for. He clicks his tongue, and pulls away from Evan’s personal space. “I don’t really see why, but I have faith in my brother. We’ll continue your confession tomorrow.” 

Delirious stands up, and for a moment, Evan allows himself to hope that he’ll be untied. 

But then Delirious plunges the screwdriver into his thigh, watching as Evan screams and writhes. But the bonds hold tight, keeping Evan to the chair while the screwdriver is still in his fucking leg, sending wave after wave of nauseating pain through his entire leg and up his body. 

“Goodnight, Deputy.” Delirious leaves the room, shutting the door and locking it behind him. 

Now Evan does throw up, doing his best to lean over the side of the chair. He doesn’t really know what exactly he’s throwing up, since it’s been a while - at least a day, probably more - since he last ate. All he knows is that he  _ hurts _ . 

He hopes that the screwdriver is clean. Tetanus is not the way he wants to die. 

 

Somewhere through the hours, Evan had managed to fall into some sort of state of unconsciousness. He wouldn’t call it sleep - being bound to a chair with a fucking screwdriver in your leg isn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep - but exhaustion pulled him under the curtain of a light doze. 

So of course he has to be woken up. 

Evan’s brought back to the present by someone untying him. 

“You gotta get outta here,” Luke’s familiar drawl comes from behind him. 

“How did you get free?” Evan asks, watching as Luke goes to untie his legs. 

“I’ve been watching these assholes, they’re predictable as shit.” The Marshal gets his legs untied, but stops Evan from trying to stand. “You can’t leave this fuckin’ thing in your leg, dumbass.” 

Evan groans, already sensing the pain in his future. “Aren’t you supposed to leave it in though?” 

“Fine, have it your way, but we need to go now.” 

Luke steps back while Evan stands up - and immediately topples over. He would’ve fallen flat on his face if it were for the Marshal catching him. 

“Jesus, you’re gonna get yourself killed,” Luke says, voice quiet and tense. He helps Evan get used to walking through the tiny pinpricks of his left leg and through the pain of his right leg. 

“I know how to get you out of the bunker, but that’s where I stop,” Luke says, throwing Evan’s arm over his shoulder and helping him to the door. 

Evan scrunches his face at that. “I’m not-” 

“Shut the fuck up. I’m more help to you in here, should your dumbass get captured again. But don’t - I don’t wanna see you again unless you’re here with a whole army, storming the shit out of this place.” 

Once they get to the door, Evan leans against the wall while Luke pokes his head to make sure no one’s patrolling the hallway. He looks back to Evan, clearly wanting him to be gone from this place already. 

All Evan can see are the fresh injuries that he’s pretty sure weren’t there early - a bruise flowering under his eye, and a gash on his cheek. Who knows what else happened to him; Evan finds himself wanting to beat up whoever did this, but he knows that he can’t. 

“When we step outside this room, you need to be fuckin’ quiet and listen to what I tell you to do. I’ve been studying their schedule as best as I can, but you have to listen to everything I say, alright?” 

Evan nods, not having the energy to argue with him, especially now that his life is on the line. 

So he ducks his head, and moves when Luke tells him to, stays still when Luke tells him to, and waits behind for a moment while Luke incapacitates a patrol or two along the way. 

They pass by a cell block. Evan makes a vow to free everyone in this bunker, including Luke. 

Evan takes this time to think about the Marshal. Considering everything, Luke is the entire goddamn reason that Evan’s here in the first place. The logical part of him argues that the arrest warrant for Ohm was issued no matter what, and it just fell to them. 

But the emotional part of Evan that’s still pissed about the screwdriver in his leg screams that they had the fucking chance to walk away from all of this - they could’ve left the church, and never gone back. 

Evan’s yanked from his thoughts when he accidentally hits the screwdriver against a stack of crates. He almost yells out, but manages to stick his hand into his mouth and bites down. He tastes his own blood, but he doesn’t let go until his vision stops flickering red with the pain. 

Luke just looks at him, waiting for the moment that the deputy stops biting his hand so they can keep going. 

The two of them stop when they reach a door that has a warning sign on it and nothing more. 

“This is a Bliss silo,” Luke whispers as they crouch in front of the door. “It ain’t filled yet, but it will be - stockpiling to wait out the Collapse. It leads right to the surface - there’s a ladder, and a hatch up at the top. It’s your best bet.” 

“I can’t climb a fucking ladder,” Evan protests, gesturing to the tool still embedded in his thigh. It’s been oozing a bit of blood since he hit it against the stupid crate, and his entire leg is on fire constantly. 

“You don’t have another option,” Luke reminds him coldly. “Bliss is at the bottom, so put your shirt over your nose. Try to breathe as little as possible, and climb as fast as you can without fucking up your leg.” He opens the door without another word, and shoves Evan into the silo. “Good luck.” 

Evan goes to say something, but the Marshal has already closed the door, and is heading off to somewhere, probably his cell.

Evan grabs his shirt and places it over his nose; he’s on a platform that goes around the edge of the cylindrical silo; dried Bliss flowers are covering the floor of the silo, rising up to the platform Evan’s on. Despite his efforts to not fucking breath, the pollen is already starting to fuck him up; the little white sparkles are appearing in his vision, and the pain in his leg is ebbing ever so slowly. 

Evan takes this as a sign to hurry the fuck up. He really does not want to get high right now, so he goes to the ladder, and starts climbing. It’s probably a fifty foot climb up to the top. 

While that normally wouldn’t be an issue, doing it with a screwdriver in your leg kinda changes everything. With that, and trying not to make too much noise, climbing the ladder takes a lot longer than Evan would like. 

By the time he reaches the top, he’s covered in sweat and crying. His entire body is screaming at him; the pain pulses with his racing heartbeat, as if he’s being punished for being alive. 

Evan pushes the hatch open at the top - thank fuck it isn’t locked - and pushes himself out into the cool night air. 

He topples out of the silo - it’s raised a foot off the ground - and lands on his back. He doesn’t move, he just lies there and gives himself a moment to just… breathe. He’s out of the bunker, but not in the clear just yet. 

Jesus, his leg fucking hurts. 

Evan grabs the edge of the silo and pushes himself into a crouch. He looks around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. 

The bunker is situated on a hill, facing the rest of the valley. Evan can see the lights of Jon’s ranch from here; that seems like his best bet, but it also seems like it’s way too far away to make it on foot. He might not have another choice, though.

Evan can see the main entrance to the bunker; it’s a little lower on the hill, and a bit to the right. There’s lights and peggies everywhere, so he doesn’t want to go there. 

He reaches for his radio, then remembers that it isn’t fucking there. Evan takes a deep breath, curses all life in the universe, and starts walking away from the silo, away from the bunker. 

He starts walking down the hill, avoiding any vehicles when they pass, but mostly letting his feet go on autopilot in a straight line. He walks and walks and walks. He walks until his feet start to hurt along with everything else. He walks until his body goes numb from being in pain for so goddamn long. He can still feel his leg pulsing with every heartbeat. 

He walks past Jonathan’s ranch. He needs a doctor, and he’s pretty sure one isn’t there. He walks until the sun is peeking over the mountains, illuminating the roads he’s being careful to avoid. 

He passes a couple abandoned cars on the way, ones swerved off the road and spray painted with the word ‘sinner’. He doesn’t take them, he doesn’t trust himself to drive without crashing.

He walks until he can see Fall’s End, can see the white church towering over the bar.

Evan walks until he’s maybe fifty feet from the town. He sees someone heading out from the church. They see him, and wave. 

Pure relief flows through Evan. He takes one more step, and promptly passes out in the middle of the road.


	7. dinner party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan is forced to relax and has dinner with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much just a filler chapter but its some good fluff and comfort so enjoy!

Evan wakes up to find himself in a bed for once. 

A nice, comfy bed. With an actual pillow and an actual blanket, and even… a teddy bear complete with a little blue bow around its neck. Evan looks away from the bear, unwilling to meet its empty gaze any longer. 

He tries to sit up, but his body won’t let him; he’s sore, more than that, he’s still in pain. His muscles betray him, letting him flop back down on the soft bed. 

But he isn’t alone. There’s someone sitting in the chair at the end of the bed; Evan recognizes the awful green jacket that is Nogla’s. 

His friend is currently asleep, head bent into what has to be an uncomfortable position, limbs sprawled all over the chair. 

Then, Evan sees the dogs. He had almost forgotten about them; Tony is curled up on the bed, facing Nogla. Joe is on the floor at Nogla’s feet, sprawled out and dead asleep. 

Evan takes a deep breath, and very slowly pushes himself up. His arms are shaking, and his vision swims - his head is pounding with the force of twelve angry gods - but he does it. He’s now successfully sitting up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, and sweating slightly with the effort. 

He notices a glass of water on the nightstand. Good God, he’s so thirsty, but he doesn’t trust himself to drink it by himself. 

So he grabs the teddy bear with shaking arms, and does his best to throw it at Nogla. 

It barely hits the man’s leg before bouncing on the floor, knocking into Joe before landing at the perfect angle to stare at Evan. 

Now he’s getting judged by a fucking bear. 

But he’s managed to wake Nogla up, so he considers it a win. 

The Irishman groans and stretches out. His bones pop so many times that Evan’s concerned. How long has he been sitting in that damn chair? It’s plastic too, so absolutely no lumbar support. 

Then Nogla’s gaze rests on him, and then he suddenly realizes that Evan’s a-fucking-wake. 

“Oh, fuck!” Nogla jumps from the chair, startling the dogs, immediately going over to the side of the bed to hand Evan the glass of water. “You’re up, jesus, are you okay?” 

Evan says nothing - his throat feels glued shut - and gestures for the water with an impatient glare. 

Nogla huffs, but helps him drink it all down. Once it’s empty, Nogla sets the glass down and crouches by the bed, scanning his friend up and down. “Does it hurt? How are you feeling? You scared the shit outta us, you gotta stop doing that, what even happened-” 

“Nogla,” Evan interrupts, placing his hands on the Irishman’s shoulders to calm him down. “Shut the fuck up, I’m fine.” 

“You ain’t fine, you’ve been sleepin’ for two fuckin’ days!” 

“Two days?” Evan sinks back down onto the bed. He suddenly feels light-headed. “Dude, I’m still fucking tired.” 

Nogla sits down on the bed, careful to avoid touching Evan in fear of hurting him. “Are you well enough to eat? You should eat, I could make you a sangwich or something.” 

“I don’t want a sang-wich,” Evan mocks the way he says it, because it’s a stupid way to say it. “I would, however, like a sandwich.” 

“You’re a cunt,” Nogla mutters, but he rises from the bed all the same. “What do you want on it?” 

“Just peanut butter. I might puke it up anyway honestly.” 

“I’ll bring a bucket too. And some aspirin.” 

“Fuck aspirin, I need morphine.” 

“Tough shit. I’ll also radio everyone else that you’re alive.” 

Evan bolts up, immediately regretting it but staying up. “Scotty-” 

“He’s fine,” Nogla reassures him. “Made it out, thanks to you. He’s with Marcel right now, they decided to lay low for a bit.” He looks Evan over one more time, as if reassuring for himself that he’s fine, then goes downstairs, wherever that is, followed closely by the two dogs.

Looking out the window, Evan realizes they’re above the Spread Eagle, meaning he’s in Brian’s apartment, for the first time. 

He wishes it could’ve been under different circumstances, but he might as well take this opportunity to snoop through Brian’s - and probably Nogla’s as well, those two have been inseparable - stuff. 

So he tries to stand up. Which he can already tell is a mistake, but he will not be perturbed by a little (a lot) of nausea and some pain in his leg.

When Nogla comes back up the stairs with a sandwich, a water bottle, a bucket, and the dogs, he finds Evan with his legs over the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. His hands are gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles are pale, but he doesn’t seem to be making any further progress in his quest to stand up. 

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Nogla asks, looking amused but sounding worried. “Sit down, you dumbass. Don’t make me fuckin’ handcuff you to the bed, I swear to God I will.”

“I’ve had enough of waking up in cuffs, I’ll pass,” Evan relents though, releasing the bed. He lets himself just sit there, unwilling to lay back down quite yet. He lets Tony settle against his side while Joe sits in the chair, leaving Nogla to sit on the bed.

Evan very slowly eats his sandwich while Nogla updates him on what’s been going on since he blew up the Yes sign with Scotty. 

Apparently, a lot can happen in four-ish days. Scotty had made it back to the town safely, already planning on how to rescue Evan from the bunker but Brian had talked him out of it. 

So Scotty went to Brock, who helped him blow up some cult property - namely red silos that dotted the valley, apparently filled with bliss like the one in the bunker is meant for. 

Then Scotty and Brock apparently got into a dogfight with a peggie pilot who apparently knew what they were doing - though not anymore, they definitely got blown up - so that’s when Scotty decided to go back to Marcel and Brock decided to lay low with his wife, who still hasn’t given birth to their daughter, Nogla mentions. 

Then Brian got a radio call asking for help from a small group who had discovered someone’s stash of weapons that’s hidden in a cave system, so that’s where he was. According to Nogla, Brian should be back within a couple hours, bringing home a shitload of firearms and who knows what else. 

Evan processes all of this at a very slow speed - his head still hurts like a motherfucker - but there’s one thought that’s still nagging at him.

“So you’ve been in charge since Brian left?” 

“Yep.” 

“Terrifying.” 

“Fuck you. Eat your sangwich then sleep some more, I have to go coordinate some shit downstairs.” Nogla leaves with a huff, storming down the stairs with Joe and Tony at his heels. 

Evan’s amused with how easy it is to push Nogla’s buttons until he realizes he now has to drink water by himself. 

At least it’s in a bottle and now a glass this time. So Evan takes the bottle, leans over the bed, and carefully drinks half of it, taking the aspirin in between sips. 

Once he’s feeling a bit more human, Evan does what he was told for once, and goes back to sleep.

 

When he wakes up, night has fallen and there’s a radio on the nightstand along with a sticky note that says  _ ‘Brian needed help, we should be back soon. Help yourself to food but not alcohol, not until we get back’  _

Evan huffs. Of course he wouldn’t drink any alcohol. Drinking alone is for sad monday nights, not… whatever day it is. 

He sits up - it’s getting easier, which he’s grateful for - and grabs the radio. It’s already on the frequency that the Resistance uses, which is nice. 

“Nogla? Brian? Anyone there?” Evan tries, half-expecting no response, or even Delirious’ voice to come through, to taunt him. 

He shakes his head to rid himself of those thoughts. 

_ “Fuck, you’re up,”  _ Nogla’s distinct voice comes through, and it sounds like he’s out of breath.  _ “Dude, we hit the motherfuckin’ motherload here. There’s a fucking helicopter in this cave, like what the fuck?”  _

Evan can hear someone shouting behind Nogla, the light beep of the button being let go then pressed again. 

_ “Evan, you’re alive!”  _ Brian says, sounding relieved but exhausted.  _ “Sorry I had to drag Nogla out here, but we needed manpower and the dumbass didn’t think to send other people.”  _

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Evan hasn’t actually tried to move yet, so he could be totally not fine, but he’ll cross that bridge later. “So you guys found a helicopter?”

_ “And a fuckin’ missile laun- wait, seriously? We found two motherfuckin’ missile launchers. Evan, you’re getting one of them,”  _ Nogla promises. 

Evan grins. That’s gonna make blowing things up so much easier. 

 

Brian and Nogla and their small group get back to the town several hours later, arriving in a pickup truck. The bed of the truck is filled with firearms, ammunition, and even a small pile of bulletproof vests. The helicopter can be seen flying to a different location up north. 

Evan meets them in the street, greeting the two irishmen with a light hug. 

“You shouldn’t be standin,” Nogla says, sounding like Evan’s mother. 

“I also shouldn’t be given a missile launcher, and yet here we are.” 

Brian holds a finger up. “Actually, you aren’t gonna get to use it for a week at least. You have to take it easy, give yourself some time to heal and shit.” 

“A week? No, that’s not gonna happen.” 

“Six days.” 

“Two.” 

“Three.” 

“Fine.” Evan holds out his hand and Brian shakes it to seal the deal. 

“Also, tomorrow, Brock wants us all over for dinner,” Nogla adds, watching as the firearms are being transferred into the mechanic’s garage, as it’s the safest place for them and the mechanic is kinda dead and won’t mind. 

“Why?” Evan isn’t opposed to the idea, but it seems kinda random and out of place. 

“Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe he likes seeing people he considers friends.” 

“Weird.” 

 

The rest of that day and the next pass by so goddamn slowly that Evan wants to pull his own hair out. He’s beyond bored, and that’s putting it lightly. 

Brian and Nogla have been keeping watch over him, making sure he’s staying in his bed as much as he possibly can before he gets a fit of restlessness and just has to walk around or do  _ something _ . 

At some point he even helps Brian clean up the bar after a long night, sitting on a stool and wiping down all the glasses with an old rag. 

And Evan hates cleaning dishes - it’s the main reason he ate takeout and pizza so much, so he would have minimal dishes to clean. 

Of course, all this free time means that there’s the opportunity to think, to let his thoughts just roam for hours on end. But certain thoughts, namely those centered around a certain cult and a certain unnamed group of brothers, only lead to bad thoughts, so Evan tries to avoid those. All through his boredom, Evan makes it a point to not think about the past and the future. When he catches his thoughts going awry, he focuses on the little details of things around. 

The weird jagged edges of a rock on the ground, or the grain of the old wooden tables in the Spread Eagle. 

It works, for a time. It’s not a permanent solution, but Evan’s fine with that.

 

He manages to wallow away the time until he has to go to dinner at Brock and Lauren’s house. 

Brian drives, Nogla’s in the passenger seat, and Evan’s sitting sideways in the backseat, stretching out his still sore legs. They’re in an old jeep, painting an awful shade of green to match Nogla’s jacket. 

They pull up the house, and aren’t surprised to find an ATV that Evan knows doesn’t belong to Brock. 

The three of them entire the house to find it alive and bustling. 

Lauren and Brock are in the kitchen, trying to manage about five different things at once. Evan’s a little salty to see that no one’s whining over Lauren being on her feet when she’s  _ super _ pregnant but he’s not allowed to be walking and he’s only got a little hole in his thigh, but whatever. 

Marcel and Scotty are there too - that explains the ATV - trying to help but just being shooed away. 

Evan almost melts with relief at actually seeing Scotty being alive and fine. He gives the smaller man a big hug, and then gives Marcel one too. He yells his greeting at Brock and Lauren, who simply yell back that dinner will be ready in five minutes so please set the table.

Evan’s in charge of plates, while Scotty gets the silverware, Nogla pours water for everyone, Marcel folds napkins for everyone - because we’re eating actual  _ food _ , Scotty, we need actual fucking  _ napkins _ \- and Brian stands there uselessly. 

Then it’s time to serve the food. The main course is a whole ass turkey that Brian apparently hit with his car and didn’t know what to do so he gave it to Brock, because what else do you do when you hit a wild turkey? 

There’s corn, mashed potatoes, bread rolls, fruit salad, macaroni and cheese, and so much more food that Evan thinks is necessary, even for seven people. 

They all pile around the table that’s meant for like four or five people, but they make it work. It’s super cramped, and the table looks like it’s about to collapse under the weight of all the food, but Evan can think of few things that are better than this. 

It’s relaxing, being surrounded by his friends. There’s no expectations, other than to act like you love Lauren’s cooking even if you don’t. But it’s kinda impossible to not love her cooking.

Jokes are shared, affectionate insults are thrown, and at one point Nogla and Marcel look so close to starting a food fight, until Brock shuts that down, claiming that they already have to deal with cultists and would rather not have ants in their house too. 

The atmosphere is light, and there’s hardly any mention of the outside world. For the time being, Evan can pretend that there’s no cult, that he’s just having a normal Wednesday night, eating dinner with his friends - his family. 

It eases the weight on his shoulders, knowing that he can count on these people for whatever he needs. He loves them, and they love him. 

Cleaning up goes rather quickly with all of them working together. Lauren and Brock are told to relax, so they sit in the living room while everyone else cleans up. Marcel offers to clean the dishes - everything had to be done by hand because of course it does. Leftovers, of which there are surprisingly little, are put away. Dishes are washed, dried, and put away. The rest of the kitchen and dining room is cleaned, and Lauren tells Brian how to make coffee so that they can all have a mug before heading home. 

Once the coffee is poured, doctored to everyone’s specifications - a special cup of decaf is made for Lauren - and handed out, the group collapses in the living room to either drink their coffee or succumb to a food coma. 

The conversation slows, then turns to the future. Brock’s asking what’s gonna happen next, and all eyes turn to Evan. 

Evan makes a point to stare into his coffee, watching the steam rise, twist, and dissipate. “I think…” he trails off, wanting to be honest but not wanting to admit that he’d rather be anywhere but here in the valley, or anywhere but up in the mountains. “I think you guys have got it from here, so I’m gonna head over to the Henbane, try to help out the folks over there. Maybe get rid of some of this Bliss while I’m at it.” 

“It’s very flammable, even the flowers,” Scotty adds helpfully.

Brock looks the slightest bit worried, but he nods and smiles. “That sounds like a good plan, man. Even though you are kinda leaving us in the hands of the Irish.” 

“We haven’t died yet,” Nogla says. 

“Fuck you,” Brian quips from behind his coffee mug. 

 

The next morning, Evan is ready to head out east to the river with Brian at his. Brian had said something about knowing the leader of the resistance in that region - the cougars, as they call themselves, so that pretty much volunteered him for the job. 

Lauren packs Evan a survival pack, full of everything they could possibly need while out there. It’s just another reminder that she’s gonna be a great mom, and Evan’s slightly terrified for the arrival of the child.

Brock told him in private that he’s gonna talk to Lauren about making him the godfather, which is a truly horrific thought. Evan would only teach the kid very bad habits, and not even on purpose. 

But there’s only so many future things that Evan can worry about now, so he pushes the future child out of his mind. Right now, he has to worry about why he’s letting Brian drive the pickup he commandeered. 

Not that Evan’s the perfect driver, but at least he stays on the damn road. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is rushed but so am I


	8. new region, new issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan just tries to have some fun, but Brian's a party pooper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in this chapter, I had to fight some writer's block. But it's a bit longer than normal, and I hope y'all enjoy it.

“So, where the fuck are we going?” Evan looks out the window, admiring the view as they drive across the county. They’ve crossed the river, and now are driving through lush forest after forest.

“We’re goin’ to the county jail,” Brian says like it’s no big deal. “The Resistance in this region, the Cougars, they call themselves, are holed up there. It’s well protected, and the armory there is something we wanna keep on our side.” 

“Who the fuck is camping at the jail?” Evan scrunches his nose at the idea. There can’t be comfortable places to sleep, all that’s there are cells and shit, right?

“You’ll see.” Brian refuses to say any more on the subject. He’s treating this like someone withholding a secret or a surprise from someone; he’s got a shit-eating grin that makes Evan almost want to jump out of the car if he isn’t told whomst the fuck they’re going to see. 

 

When they arrive at the jail that sits on a hill, the jail is under attack by at least twenty peggies. Three are on mounted guns, two others have fucking flamethrowers, and a good bunch are trying to throw dynamite over the giant metal gate that protects the front of the jail. The rest of it is surrounded by a high stone wall topped with barbed wire, and the corners have small towers for lookouts. 

Snipers are currently up in the towers, trying to pick off those they can see. The other Cougars, apparently, are atop the front wall, ducking behind quickly thrown-together cover.

“Was this part of the plan?” Evan asks, scanning the situation and trying to figure the best way to attack. He’s also entirely fine with just staying in the truck and waiting until everything dies down, but he knows that isn’t an option.

“No, not really.” Brian stops the truck before they reach the road leading to the jail, swerving it so they could use it as cover. He gets out, not bothering to turn off the vehicle just in case. They haven’t been noticed yet, at least not by the peggies, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

Evan grabs his own missile launcher from the backseat, his duffel bag full of extra rockets, and exits the car with a huff. He probably shouldn’t be back in action so soon, but this isn’t the kind of the thing he can ignore.

Evan crouches by the hood of the car, rests his launcher on it so his aim is steady, and lines up his shot with the nearest truck that has a mounted gun. 

Brian stands near him with a rifle, taking aim for whatever he’s taking aim at. “On your mark,” He murmurs. 

“Bad idea,” Evan replies, but he fires a rocket at the truck all the same. The truck explodes in a blaze of glory, taking out at least two peggies with it, hopefully stunning some more. Evan can’t help but to let out a laugh at the display, it’s just too awesome for him to  _ not _ laugh.

Brian starts firing his shots off as Evan loads another rocket, aiming for the second of the three trucks pulled up in front of the gate.

The second explodes just as spectacularly, and so does the third.

Evan shoves his launcher into the backseat of the truck, instead grabbing his an assault rifle - that he deemed his by writing his name on the barrel in permanent marker - and sprints up the hill. He doesn’t feel so bad about his stupidly running up the hill towards the enemies knowing that Brian is watching his back.

Evan ducks behind the still burning wreckage of the first truck - careful to not let the flames get too damn close - and provides counter-fire for the resistance on the jail wall.

The combination of everyone firing at the cultists wipes them out rather quickly; Evan’s only slightly drenched in sweat and only bleeding from his palms and his knees from where he sneezed and tripped on the asphalt road. He hopes no one saw that among the chaos.

Once the last peggie is down and Brian’s made his way up the hill, Evan starts trying to help with the cleanup.

Then, someone shouts, “Brian, Evan, you dumbasses, get inside!” Their voice seems familiar, but Evan can’t place it.

Brian, however, is grinning like an idiot. He takes Evan’s arm and drags him inside the wall - the door on the side has been blown almost off its hinges - and then into the county jail. He drags the poor deputy into the center of the jail - an open room, lined on three walls with cells.

There’s a large desk pushed against the far wall, overlaid with radios and televisions displaying surveillance of the surrounding area.

One man is standing in the center, barking orders to the people around them. The resistance members are bustling about, doing damage control; moving people to the medic area, clearing up rubble, or otherwise keeping the situation under control.

The man takes one look at Brian, and breaks out into a wild grin. He laughs, a chaotic and high-pitched noise, one that dregs the deepest memories from Evan’s sub-conscious and he instantly knows just who is standing in front of them.

“Panda!” Evan shouts, pushing past Brian to give the man-in-charge a big ol’ hug. 

“Evan, of course it’s fucking you!” Panda, whose real name is Anthony, swings Evan around with pure joy. “We’re up here, getting our asses shot through the roof, and then you show up and blow them to hell and save the goddamn day!” 

“I helped,” Brian mentions rather loudly, looking at Anthony as if he’s offended that he isn’t getting a hug as well. 

Anthony is quick to fix that, embracing Brian with enough force to almost squish the air from his lungs. “You fuckers sure know how to make an entrance, that’s for goddamn sure.” He stands there for a second, hands on his hips, looking around him at the Cougars moving to and fro. “We’ve been working our asses off here, but there’s only so much we can do. We’re pretty built in here, but those stupid ass cultists don’t know when to quit.” 

“Smitty still sending them to get you?” Brian asks with a hint of incredulity. “You’re in a fortress, wouldn’t he know when to quit?”

“Hopefully, he’ll take the fucking hint this time since you two showed up and handed their asses to ‘em. Anywho, come on, I’m sure y’all are hungry. We got some deer this morning, so we have actual food.” Anthony gestured for the two of them to follow, then left the jail and headed for the back courtyard. 

A grill-out was set up, with a controlled fire roasting several hunks of deer settled on a piece of metal fence held up by a couple chairs. More chairs surround it, a few of them currently occupied by severely worn-out people with firearms on their laps. It looked pretty trashy, but Evan wouldn’t say no to a meal. Blowing up peggies was hard work, if you asked him. 

“We’ve been holed up here for, shit, over a month at least,” Anthony says as he begins doling out portions of venison. “We’ve got a pretty good deal with the locals who haven’t come to us, we help them and they help us. But there’s more than we can do from here, but we can’t afford to send out anymore people, so we’re hoping-” 

“Tell us what to do, and we’ll get it done,” Evan promises, sitting down on a plastic chair next to Brian. “It’s what we’re here for.” 

“Yeah, we all heard how you were being a real bitch to Del over in the valley.” Anthony allows himself a grin and a chuckle. “You were really pissin’ him off, congrats on that. Not that it ain’t hard to piss him off, but you know what I mean.” 

Evan tries to hide the fact that he really doesn’t want to talk about it, but he’s pretty sure it’s obvious since Brian clears his throat and asks, “Is there anyone you know could use our help today?” 

Anthony sits back, looking to the sky as he thinks. After a moment, he says, “You guys remember Chrissy, Scotty’s ex? She’s… taken an interesting hobby in the turn of events. A bit of a pyro, honestly. She’s been living at the old trailer park up the road, all the others that were sharing it with her left so she’s been enjoying the silence, but I worry about her. I know Scott’s been meaning to check up on her, but I’m sure you could do it.” 

“When you say pyro,” Evan trails off. 

“I mean she has a flamethrower and she’s been grilling any peggies that get near her property. Including those Angels.” 

“Angels?” 

“People who’ve been exposed to too much Bliss,” Brian explains with a grim look. “They go brain dead, and there isn’t a way to reverse it. Smitty calls ‘em ‘Spacey Boys’ cause they’re spaced out all the damn time. The rest of the cult calls ‘em Angels.”

“All they’re good for is menial labor no one else wants to do,” Anthony adds. “Can’t even hold a conversation, they just talk to themselves like they’re crazy. It’s horrific, so I can’t fault Chrissy for putting them down.” 

“Why hasn’t Scotty checked up on her?” Evan asks to change the subject. “Didn’t they separate on good terms?” 

“Oh yeah, the most friendly fuckin’ breakup I’ve ever seen. Far as I know, Scott’s just been too damn lazy to make the drive and she doesn’t have a radio. I’ve been telling her to get one, and honestly I might just give you guys one to leave with her. She’s just stubborn as fuck.” 

“Is that all you want us to? Make sure she’s alive and well?” Brian’s already finished eating his venison, and is obviously waiting for Evan to finish his serving so they can get moving.

Anthony shrugs. “If you can possibly convince her to come stay with us where she’ll be, I don’t know, fucking safe, then that’d be great. If not, then making sure she’s breathing will be fine.” 

 

Turns out, Chrissy is indeed breathing. She’s more than breathing, she’s having the goddamn time of her life. 

“What is that horrible music?” Brian asks as he turns the truck onto the road that leads to the trailer park. 

Evan doesn’t think the music is horrible. It’s disco, who doesn’t love disco music? It’s just insanely loud. 

When they actually pull up to the trailer park, Evan sees something that really makes wonder just why the fuck Scotty didn’t try harder to keep her.

Chrissy’s rigged the entire trailer park up with outdoor speakers - at least ten of them, all blaring disco as loud as they can. The ground is reverberating under Evan, making his entire body pulse with the music. 

Chrissy herself is standing on top of a trailer, wearing construction headphones and a clearly homemade flamethrower; she’s setting ablaze a horde of Angels, who apparently don’t like the music, as they’re all squirming trying to get to her from the ground.

It’s really a sight to see. Evan could almost fall in love with Chrissy right here and now. 

Brian does’t seem to share the same sentiment. He’s looking upon the scene with both horror and concern. 

Well, if Brian isn’t going to enjoy himself on this visit, Evan will. He grabs a shotgun from the back of the truck, and heads into the chaos. He climbs up onto one of the trailers - they’re all connected by a junkyard turned bridge system. He walks over a bridge that looks as if it’s made from a ladder and duct tape to get to the trailer Chrissy is standing on. 

She acknowledges him with a nod, smiling briefly before turning back to the horde of swarming Angels that are still on the ground. 

With her grilling them and Evan popping them with his shotgun, the horde is gone before the disco song comes to an end. 

There’s a control board on the floor, next to a container of fuel, some ammo, and a small gathering of beers. Chrissy uses her foot to turn off the music, turning to face Evan with a grin. 

“Been a long fuckin’ time, Evan Fong,” Chrissy greets with a smile. She shucks off her flamethrower, gingerly placing it on the floor next to them. Once it’s safe on the ground, Chrissy takes Evan in for a side hug before grabbing a rag from her back pocket to wipe down her face.

“Out of all the things I saw you doing with your life, this was  _ not _ one of them,” Evan admits. 

Chrissy scoffs, grabbing for two of the beers and popping the caps off with her keychain. She hands one of them to Evan, and she clinks them together before taking a long drink of her own. “Well, that was before a fuckin’ cult tried to take over our home. Welcome to Disco Inferno, my dude. Place where no judgements are passed, pants are optional, and Angel killing is a guarantee. Don’t feel bad about it, though, they’re brain dead and everything, and there ain’t a way to reverse it, so we’re pretty much doing them a favor.” 

As she was talking, Brian walks through the carnage until he’s standing on the ground below them, hands on his hips and staring at both of them with the aura of a disappointed mother. 

Before he can say anything, Chrissy is handing him a beer as well. “Before you spout some shit, drink this. And no judging, that’s the whole thing about Disco Inferno.” 

Brian takes the beer, but he looks no less pleased. “It’s ten in the mornin’, a little early to be drinkin’. And also, is this what you’re doin’ with your time these days?” 

“Yep.” Chrissy smiles at Evan. “For some fuckin’ reason, the Angels hate disco, that or it’s just loud enough to attract them. So I play my jams, grills some zombie-ass motherfuckers, and have a good time.” 

Brian sighs, but drinks his beer all the same. “I feel like there are better things to be doing.” 

“I’m performing community service, what more could you ask?” 

“Anthony wants you to go live with them at the jail, where you’d be a bit more safe.” 

Chrissy scoffs at that. “No can do. I’m sure the Resizi is doing fine without me, I’m staying here.” 

“Well, I tried.” Brian sets his beer down on the ground, and takes the spare radio that was clipped to his belt. He shows it to Chrissy before placing it next to his beer. “Radio in every once in a while so we never have to come back out here. Come on, Evan, we’re leaving.” 

“So soon?” Evan would much rather stay here with Chrissy and just find out her entire life story. “I wanna stay here.”

“Evan, no.” 

“Evan, yes!” 

Chrissy pats Evan’s shoulder with a grin. “It’s okay, just go. I’m sure our paths will cross again soon enough.” 

“For our sakes, I hope not,” Brian mutters, just loud enough for the both of them to hear. “Evan, let’s go!” 

With a groan, Evan obeys. He follows Brian back to the truck, pondering all the reasons why Chrissy and Scotty broke up. Maybe it has something to do with Marcel. Or maybe not. 

Who the fuck knows. 

_ “Yo, Brian, Evan, you guys there, over.”  _

Evan hisses at the crackle of Brian’s radio, startled out of his thoughts by the dumb plastic device just ruining Anthony’s voice with static.

Brian pointedly ignores this as he holds his receiver up between them. “Yeah, we were just heading back, what’s up?” 

“You have to say ‘over’,” Evan whispers to him. 

Brian just rolls his eyes. 

_ “Turns out you’re real close to Fitz Conservatory, and we need to take that place under our control. It’s the main center for cultivating the stupid Bliss plants, if we take it maybe we can sober these stupid fucks up a bit, over.”  _

“Are we doing this ourselves?” At Evan’s pointed look, Brian sighs and adds an exasperated, “over.” 

Anthony’s dry chuckle drifts through the radio.  _ “Unless you pick up a straggler on the way, you’re on your own. We can’t spare a goddamn person here, but we need that conservatory taken out.”  _

“We’re on it, over.” Evan grins at Brian, sensing more use of his missile launcher in the near future. 

_ “Also, when you clear out the place, burn the Bliss fields. That should seriously fuck up their distribution. Good luck, over and out.”  _

“Why does Anthony know to say over, but you don’t,” Evan muses out loud as they approach the truck. 

“Evan, why don’t you shut the fuck up?” There’s no malice in Brian’s voice. 

“Make me.” 

“No.” 

“Exactly.” 

 

The conservatory is actually a very pretty sight. It’s a shame that it’s being used for ugly things by ugly people.

It’s composed of a large white house surrounded by fields upon fields of Bliss flowers. There’s a greenhouse off to the side, and a large group of cultists lingering all around. 

There’s also two different alarms, placed on opposite ends of the house. 

“This is gonna be a bitchload,” Evan says. He and Brian are currently sitting on a hill where they have a good view of the whole operation. It isn’t looking good for them. 

“We can do it,” Brian replies, though he doesn’t sound too certain. 

“Yeah, and the moon landing was real.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

“It doesn’t matter, but you get my point. All we have is my RPG and a shotgun.” Just then, Evan gasps. He reaches for his boots, where he cleverly hid four of the throwing knives he got from Scotty. “And these,” He says, proudly dumping them onto the grass. 

Brian eyes the knives, then the conservatory, then Evan, then the conservatory again. He’s silent for a moment; he’s running his thumb over the edges of his fingernails as he thinks, as he considers every option they have. 

Evan just watches the peggies moving about the conservatory. As many as there are, they’re still dumb as fuck. There are no guards on high ground, like the fucking balcony of the main house that would be perfect for a sniper to hold up in. 

“Alright,” Brian says eventually. “I say we each take a couple knives, and go for the alarm system. I’ll take the right, you take the left. We disable those first, silently taking out any peggies on the way. Once those are out, then maybe we can ambush them.” 

“Maybe?” Evan repeats with incredulity. “That’s a terrible plan.” 

“Come up with a better one then, dickhead.” 

Evan says nothing, just crosses his arms and looks at the grass. 

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” 

 

Evan waits for Brian to make his way around the conservatory, then begins his approach to his designated alarm. The alarm system itself is just to signal towers, each topped with a PA system for audio to reach every nook and cranny within the property. 

Currently, it’s playing one of the cult songs, specifically made for the apocalypse. The song is slow, and all about having faith and trusting the Bliss. 

As much as the lyrics are awful, the melody is quite nice. 

Evan finds himself humming along to it as he trails after a slow moving peggie, waiting for the perfect moment to plunge his knife into their neck.

The moment arrives, and the peggie is down. Evan decides to take their automatic rifle for his own use. He reaches the alarm, and turns it off. The song doesn’t stop playing, so that’s a good sign. The only signal he’s given that he succeeded is the lights at the very top of the signal tower have stopped flashing. 

He goes to where he can see the other signal tower - taking out a couple cultists on the way - and waits for Brian to do his part. 

A moment passes, then another, then the flashing lights cut out. The alarm system is done for. 

Evan thinks that Brian had maybe wanted to do this entire thing quietly and carefully. But Evan is quickly losing patience for this whole crouching thing, so he heads for a few crates piled up a bit from the main house. 

He sets his rifle on top of one of them, and aims for the nearest peggie. 

Chaos erupts, and a firefight ensues. 

It seems like a tornado of bullets whizzing around Evan; he can’t tell whose they are, his own or the peggies’. It doesn’t matter. 

He goes on autopilot, shooting anything that moves. 

He goes for his RPG, which he had kept strapped to his back, and aims for the tell-tale green barrels full of Bliss; they explode in a haze of powder and fire, knocking out anything in a good five foot radius. And there’s a lot of barrels dotting the property. 

But so little enemies left.

So few, in fact, that Evan’s side of the house is clear. He can still hear some conflict on Brian’s side, but he stays still. 

He grabs the rifle, slinging his missile launcher onto his back once more. 

He waits, heart pounding and veins pulsing, fingers itching to pull the trigger a few more times. On what, though, he doesn’t know. 

He can’t remember this sudden change in attitude towards shooting. He ignores it for now. 

He hears a final shot - definitely a shotgun - and a body hit the ground. 

He waits one more second, then calls out, “Brian?” 

“Evan!” The Irishman comes around the house, breathing heavily from exertion but otherwise looking fine. “Are they gone?” 

“I think so,” Evan can never be certain, but there are definitely no more peggies around the main house. 

Brian goes over to him, grinning widely. “See? I told you we’d make it!” He laughs out of relief. “Fuck, dude, that was intense.” He fishes for his radio, taking the receiver and holding it between the two of them. “Anthony, you there?” 

“Come in, over,” Evan adds loudly.

Brian rolls his eyes.

_ “Fuck, you guys, did you do it?”  _ Anthony sounds as if he’s trying not to be hopeful. 

“Fuck yeah, we did!” Brian shoves Evan’s shoulder, bristling with pure adrenaline and lingering shock. “Conservatory’s ours, boys!” 

_ “I’ll radio people around you, see if I can you a team for the cleanup. Have you burned the Bliss yet, over.”  _

Brian deflates, having entirely forgotten about that part of the plan. He looks to Evan, who shrugged. He didn’t remember either. 

“Not yet.” 

“Over,” Evan adds. 

_ “Well get on that. I’ll radio you again when a team is on their way, over and out.”  _

“He sounded disappointed,” Evan says as Brian clips the receiver back to his belt. 

“He’ll get over it. Now, how the fuck are we gonna burn these fields down?” 

Evan shrugs. He hadn’t planned this far. “Let’s just search the main house, see if we can find anything.” 

“What’re you hoping to find?” 

“A flamethrower would be nice.” 

“Evan, no.” 

Evan huffs, flicking his hand at Brian before walking into the main house. “That’s all I’ve ever hear anymore,” He mutters to himself. “Evan, you can’t do that. Evan, that’s illegal. Shut the fuck up, and let me live my life.” 

“What the fuck are you sayin?” Brian calls after him, standing in the entrance to the house. 

“Nothing, dear, just search the basement.” Evan sure hopes there is actually a basement, as he’s going to search the upstairs and wants to do it alone. Just in case there really is a flamethrower somewhere, then Brian can’t won’t be able to stop him from using it. 

The upstairs is a whole bunch of nothing. Just a bunch of rooms that barely looked used, except for one at the end of the hall that’s locked, unlike all the other doors were. 

Having no ability to pick locks, Evan decides to shoot it with a pistol that he picked up from the previous room he searched, because who doesn’t leave firearms just carelessly lying around?

Evan steps into the room, flicks the light on, and is met with… an office. 

A table overlaid with papers and pens and boring shit. Probably just more of the research for the Bliss that’s been everywhere in this entire house. No rest for the druggies, apparently.

What piques Evan’s interest in the safe in the corner. It’s one of those stand alone safes, with a simple padlock securing it. Either these peggies don’t know shit about security, or the contents of the safe aren’t really that important. 

Evan shoots the lock, and watches as the door falls open. 

Inside is something… anticlimactic but perfect for his situation.

Several  _ full  _ bottles of vodka compose the contents of the safe. And by several, there’s at least ten. The seals on them aren’t even broken, these are brand new bottles. 

Evan grins at the sight. A sudden idea comes to his mind. He’s a fucking genius.

 

The drive from the conservatory is silent. 

Brian’s gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles are almost white. 

Evan’s sitting in the back - not even the passenger seat, in the fucking back - pouting as hard as he can.

After five minutes of the exasperated silence, Brian looks at Evan through the rearview mirror. “Did we learn something today, Evan?” His voice is strained.

Evan thinks for a moment. “I learned… oh, I learned that I should never let you see what I’m trying to do because you’ll just fuckin’ ruin it.” 

“You almost burned the house down!” 

“No, I didn’t, you didn’t even let me throw  _ one _ molotov! And I went through all the effort of doing the shit with the rags and I even found a lighter which took me at least ten minutes, and then you take it all away! How is that fair?” 

Brian sighs, sounding beyond done with the entire situation. “Molotvs were not the way to go about that.”

“It would’ve gotten the job done.” 

“And possibly have burned down everything around us.” 

Evan shrugs. “You win some, you lose some.” 

Brian is silent for a moment. Then he pulls the car over to the side of the road. He turns off the engine, gets out of the car, and starts walking in the direction of the jail.

Evan leans out his window, brows furrowed in concern. “Brian, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“Walking,” Brian replies. He makes a point to stare straight ahead of him.

“You’re really gonna be like that?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” Evan shimmies his way into the driver seat, and turns the car back on. He pulls the car up to where it’s beside Brian, driving at the same pace he’s walking. 

“Get in the car,” Evan says. 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Fine, have fun.” Evan speeds off, leaving his friend in a trail of dust and frustration. Normally, he would feel bad about abandoning Brian, but it’s less than a ten minute walk, so Evan feels that it’s deserved. 

So when Evan arrives at the jail, and then Brian does a bit later, both still looking upset, neither of them acknowledge Anthony’s concern. 

Brian goes right to the cell that was designated his, which is sadly right next to Evan’s. 

“Hey, man-” Anthony tries to say, but Evan holds a hand up, cutting him off. 

“We didn’t do it,” Evan says loudly, then goes to his own cell for the night. 

His last thought before he goes to bed is that he can totally be trusted with a molotov and Brian’s just being mean about it.


	9. sowing the seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smitty shows up, then Evan and Brian blow some stuff up.

The next morning, Evan slips out just before dawn to take a walk by himself. 

He finds he just wishes to be alone, if only for an hour or two. So he grabs a couple bottles of water, his radio - turned off so no one can contact him, but he has it - and he goes. 

He leaves a quick note by Brian’s bed, hopefully he’ll see it and not freak out. 

And then Evan hikes. Down the hill the jail is on, up another hill, down that one, and up one more. Until he’s sweating with the exertion and the sun is just beginning to rise. 

It’s beautiful. If there was one thing that Evan had missed about living here, it was the sunrises. 

He sits on the grass, sipping water and watching the spectacle unfold before him. 

He senses a presence before he sees them. 

He doesn’t react, just takes a sip of water. For some reason, he’s inexplicably calm.

Then, someone materializes, seemingly out of nowhere, at Evan’s side. 

He knows who they are immediately - those red and blue aviators are a dead giveaway. 

“You know, I never really got the whole ‘hike at dawn’ thing,” Smitty says, as if they were long time friends. He takes a seat next to Evan, who watches him carefully. “Although that might just be because I’m not a morning person. Which sucks, because Ohm likes to get up at the ass-crack of dawn everyday.” 

Evan says nothing. He can’t really be talking to the youngest Wrecker, right? This is a dream, or a hallucination. He could’ve accidentally walked too close to a Bliss flower on his way, those things are everywhere. 

Evan reaches out, very slowly, one finger extended. He pokes the side of Smitty’s shoe - he’s wearing sneakers, of all things - and that just solidifies Evan’s concern. 

“How did you get here?” He asks, bringing his hand back closer to himself. 

Smitty cocks his head, smiling with amusement. “I walked with my own two feet.” 

_ Then popped up out of nowhere with them, _ Evan thinks. 

“How have you been, man?” Smitty asks without a care in the world. “It’s been a long time, has life been treating you well?” 

“Do you even remember me?” Evan doesn’t mean to ask that, but he does. 

Smitty huffs, but there’s no negativity behind it. “Of course I do, I was a kid, not a baby.” 

“What do you remember?” 

Smitty’s smile falls, just enough to be noticeable. “I remember… You hanging around with us a lot. Tyler always being happier when you were around. And then you weren’t around.” He doesn’t say it like an accusation, merely a fact. It happened, and nothing can change it. His voice holds no malice, just… something bordering between mourning and disappointment. 

And that hurts more than it should. 

“But you’re back,” Smitty adds, perking up once more. His grin holds that childish glee, almost naivety, but no such thing exists in him any more. 

“I’m back,” Evan parrots slowly. 

“Why are you back?” 

“I was sent to arrest-” 

“No, no, no,” Smitty is quick to cut him off, placing his hand on Evan’s knee. “If that was the only reason you were here, you would’ve dipped the second shit went sideways. Why have you stayed?” 

Evan looks back to the sunset. Reds, oranges, pinks, and gold have exploded across the sky, heralding the arrival of the sun, the arrival of a new day. 

The beauty is lost on him now. 

“My friends,” Evan murmurs. “I’m here for my friends.” 

“On what side?” Smitty probes gently. He pats Evan’s knee, and stands. “You don’t have to say anything… just think about it. Sure, you have friends on both sides of this petty conflict, but only on one side do you have a  _ family _ .” 

Evan goes to say something, he doesn’t know what but he wants to say anything to refute that, but when he looks to his side, he finds he is alone once more. 

Smitty is nowhere to be seen. As if he disappeared into thin air.

Solitude having lost its appeal, Evan gathers his water bottle and heads back to the jail. His head swarming with a million thoughts, deciphering Smitty’s words, judging their validity, refuting them - he has a family now, right? He has a family on the good side of this holy war, he really does.

So he ignores the part of his brain trying to tell him that the only family he’s ever wanted is on the other side, he just has to go to them. 

He shuts that part up, locking it away for as long as he can. 

The sight of the jail, the sight of Brian and Anthony standing on the wall, definitely arguing about something given the chaotic hand motions going on, reminds Evan that he’s on the right side. He’s doing the right thing with the right people.

But every word of that conversation that feels like a dream lingers. 

 

Brian’s driving them towards the one and only full-out marina that exists in Hope county, music on with the volume down low, when he finally asks the question that’s been nagging since he woke up. 

“Is something wrong, man? You’re quiet.” 

Evan shakes his head, forcing a smile that he hopes comes across as casual. “Nah, I’m good.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep so well last night. Those prison beds are no joke, dude.” 

“It’s not a prison, and they aren’t exactly meant to be the height of luxury.” Brian doesn’t sound very convinced, but he also doesn’t press the issue further.

“So, we’re liberating the marina?” 

“And blowing up any shrines we see along the way.” 

“And after that?” 

“We blow up that ugly ass statue looming over the county.” 

Evan looks to said statue; it’s seated in the far east of the county, on the top of hill because these cultists have a flair for the dramatic.

It’s a statue of Ohm himself, carved from concrete and at least 80 feet tall. He’s standing with one arm outstretched, the other holding onto his personalized Bible. 

Apparently, written for his own religion, Ohm also wrote a bible for it - the Book of Ohm. He’s not particularly creative with names. 

Evan hasn’t gotten to read a Book of Ohm yet; he simply hasn’t come across one. He kinda wants to read one, out of curiosity.

“So the plan for today is the marina, the shrines, and the statue? Is that all? Surely we can do more. Perhaps liberate all of Russia while we’re at it.” 

“Why Russia?”

“I dunno, man.”

 

The marina is easy enough to liberate from the cult. There aren’t too many cultists, and those only one alarm that needs to be shut off. 

At one point, Evan spots a shovel with a smiley face painted on it. He takes the shovel, using it instead of his firearm. Bashing peggies in the head is a wonderful way to relieve the stress that’s been building as of late. 

The best part is when a few peggie boats pull up through the lake, trying to get the drop on them; Evan blows them to smithereens with his missile launcher, and they’re gone in a single blaze of hellfire and glory. 

Within about ten minutes, the marina is back under the control of the Resistance. 

Brian radios Anthony while Evan digs around the place, looking for anything useful or even interesting. 

All he can find is a baggie of weed - he pockets that, just in case - and a calendar with dogs on it. Whoever was ticking off the days stopped about a month ago. Evan hopes that whoever owns this calendar stopped marking the past days because they got the fuck out of dodge, and not because something bad happened to them. 

Evan leaves the calendar on the wall, leaving the marina to go find Brian. He just has to follow the sweet, static-ridden sound of Anthony’s bossy voice outside the main building to where Brian’s sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the edge just above the water. 

_ “-ind that helicopter, we fucking need some air support of our own, over and out.”  _

“I didn’t get to say hi,” Evan says petulantly, narrowing his eyes at Brian like it’s his fault. 

“Shouldn’t have wondered off.” Brian shrugs. “Find anythin’ useful?” 

“A dog calendar.” 

“That’s not useful.” 

“What was that about a helicopter?” 

Brian groans and stands up. “The owner of this place who’s kinda dead now owned a helicopter that could be used in the fuckin’ military. The cult took it to their post up on that hill,” Brian points to a hill in the distance, where a wooden building is just barely visible. “And he wants us to go get it back.” 

“Can you fly a helicopter?”

“It can’t be that hard.” Brian starts walking to the truck, not even bothering to wait for the cleanup team that’s supposed to be arriving any second now. 

Evan huffs. “We’re gonna die.” 

“The helicopter has rockets which we can use to blow up the statue,” Brian offers, much like an adult offers a child a treat in order for them to be cooperative. 

Evan purses his lips. It doesn’t make much consideration for him to agree to this addition to their plans. He doesn’t say anything, he just gets in the truck. 

 

The helicopter is  _ not _ easy to get ahold of. 

It’s easy to spot, that’s for sure. It’s painted with a weird pink camouflage, and is quite unflattering. 

Whoever is flying it must be on patrol for something; they fly the damn thing to three different outposts across the entire Henbane region. 

By the time Brian and Evan pull up close enough in their truck, the helicopter is back in the air, flying at least a thousand meters away.

Third time’s the charm, however; the helicopter lands, and the pilot gets out and heads inside the outpost.

Brian pulls the truck up to a good bit behind the chopper, and then he and Evan clear out the outpost in no time. 

There’s some useful supplies in it - some ammo, first aid kits, stuff like that. Evan radios that in to Anthony, while Brian gets in the chopper and tries to figure out the best way to pilot it without killing them both.

“You know how to fly it, right?” Evan feels the need to repeat his question once he’s seated in the co-pilot’s seat, watching Brian just kinda stare at the controls. 

“I got some flying lessons from Brock,” Brian says, sounding a bit sheepish. “A plane can’t be that different, right?” 

“We’re so gonna die.” Evan leans back in his seat, grabbing the co-pilot headset and putting it on. He decides to close his eyes, going with the flow at this point. If they manage to get off the ground, then they do. If they don’t, they don’t. If they die, they die.

After a good moment’s pause - enough to almost convince Evan that Brian’s going to give up - the helicopter erupts into life. The motor starts spinning, the engine is roaring, and Evan’s thrown back to that night, the first night that threw him into this entire fucking mess. 

His stomach curls in on itself, his head starts to ache, and he can’t open his eyes. But he stays silent, trying to push away images of someone throwing themselves into the motor.

The chopper lurches off the ground, swinging a little with the excess force. 

Evan thinks Brian curses - even through the headset, it’s hard to hear over the turmoil in his head. 

But then they’re going, effortlessly flying through the air. 

Evan cracks an eye open, and is met with a beautiful sight. 

The county really is a pretty place. The mountains are gorgeous, the river is sparkling in the daylight, the grass is so green it’s unbelievable. 

Evan lets himself enjoy the moment. His death-grip on his seat slowly eases, and the memories of that awful night are fading.

The moment passes too soon; before Evan knows it, the giant concrete Ohm statue is almost right in front of them. The base of it is surrounded by what almost looks like a park or something; rows of chairs surround it, enough for a large group of people to gather and commune at the statue. 

Evan wonders if you can go inside of it, like the Statue of Liberty.

“Alright, Evan!” Brian shouts, pointing to some sort of control on the dashboard in front of them. “I’m pretty sure that’s the rockets!” 

Evan looks to the control system in front of him. It’s confusing, but he thinks he knows how to work it.

If he doesn’t, oh well. Dynamite will work just the same.

He takes a deep breath, and pushes the button.

Rockets launch from the base of the helicopter, firing straight ahead of them.

They hit squarely in concrete Ohm’s chest, and they just  _ obliterate _ the fucking statue.

The concrete cracks and falls apart before their eyes; it crumbles to the ground in a hailstorm of debris and boulder-size pieces. But their job isn’t done. 

The statue is secured with scaffolding and rebar and everything else; it’s going to take more than a few hits to fully decimate it. 

Brian brings the helicopter up a bit, so that they’re staring right into the Ohm’s eyes. Well, the concrete blindfold over them. 

Evan shoots the rockets right into the middle of his face. He doesn’t get to watch it crumble though.

“ _ Fuck _ !” Brian screeches, veering the helicopter way too harshly to the right. 

Just as Evan’s about to ask why the fuck, he sees a missile zooming past right where they were. 

Evan looks down, and sees cultists swarming about the base of the statue. They don’t seem very happy. He wonders why they didn’t attack before, but then he remembers that they’re in a stolen helicopter. 

Sucks for them. 

While Brian focuses on avoiding missiles and other fire, Evan focuses on taking down the rest of the statue.

Once it’s completely obliterated - nothing left but debris, dust, and the metal framing - Evan finds the controls for the machine gun. 

He goes to town on the peggies, raining hellfire down on them from an ugly, pink helicopter. 

This is not where he thought his life would go. 

“I wanna explore it,” Evan says once the peggies are all down. “Maybe there’s something useful in there.” 

Brian doesn’t even bother to fight him on this. “Fine, just make it quick.” 

Evan intends to do just that. He goes for the vest that’s been laying near his feet, and the blue rope that’s next to it. He puts the vest on as tight as he can bear, clasps the rope to the vest with a heavy snap link, then the rope to the landing skids. 

He’s always dreamed of doing this, and now he is. Grappling out of a helicopter to explore the ruins of a concrete statue of a cult leader. Life’s weird like that.

It’s a lot more terrifying than they make it look in the movies. Evan grips the rope so hard his knuckles are white, and shimmies down until he’s pretty much hanging over the metal framework, a platform about five feet beneath him. 

He takes a deep breath, unclips himself from the rope, and falls. 

He lands with a grunt, because as stupid as he is, he landed on his feet and now his legs are gonna hurt later. Whatever. 

The platform is small, and pretty crowded with wooden crates, a few Bliss barrels, and spare firearms and ammunition laying around. 

If this statue was a shrine, it’s a heavily armed one. 

Evan sees a missile launcher, though. He grabs it, just in case. And as many rockets as he can. 

He sees a ladder heading to an upper level that doesn’t really exist anymore. Haphazardous scaffolding and chunks of concrete create a weird, dangerous platform. Evan shrugs, and climbs the ladder. 

This upper level leads to one more, where even more wreckage is in the way.

As quickly as he can manage, Evan climbs up and up and up, until he’s at the very top. This must’ve been where Ohm’s brain would be. Weird.

Something catches Evan’s eye. It’s at the edge of the would-be platform. 

It’s a wooden podium, the kind from a church. With a white book on the top. 

Evan wanders over to it, drawn by some force he cannot explain. 

The book is definitely a Book of Ohm. The cross signifying the Project is emblazoned in gold on the cover. 

Evan picks it up, feeling the heavy weight. The Book is worn, but cared for. The spine is cracked, obviously read many times. 

He opens the cover, and finds a written message written on the first page in loopy yet scratchy, painfully familiar handwriting.

It’s addressed to Smitty.

Evan shuts the cover before he can read even a single word. This must be Smitty’s personal copy of the Book of Ohm. 

_ “Evan, talk to me, what the fuck are you doin’?”  _ Brian’s voice from his radio pulls him back to reality.

For reasons he cannot identify, Evan doesn’t want the Book to be damaged. He tucks it between his vest and his shirt. He tightens the vest as much as he can, so the Book won’t slip. 

“There’s some supplies here,” Evan says into the radio turning from the wooden podium. “A team should come up here later.”

_ “Fuckin’ shit, there’s more peggies coming! East, Evan, east!”  _

Briefly forgetting what direction east is, Evan drops down to a more secure level of the metal scaffolding, and heads for the edge.

He can see Brian, trying to turn the helicopter around while two obviously peggie choppers approach from the distance. 

This is not good. 

Evan looks around him, but there’s absolutely nothing that can help him. 

Except for the missile launcher strapped to his back. 

“You have to draw their attention,” Evan tells Brian, scrambling to the other exposed side of the platform. If he’s lucky, he won’t be seen.

_ “It seems like I already fuckin’ have it!”  _

“Keep it that way.” Evan drags a wooden crate over as far as he dares - the edge of the platform hangs over, and a sixty foot drop really doesn’t sound like fun. He sets his missile launcher on top of the crate, and waits. 

_ “I hope you have a fucking plan.”  _

“I do. Just use the machine guns on them, I’ll take them out from the back.” Evan waits for the right moment.

The peggie choppers split, one going each direction around the remains of the statue.

The one that went right is hovering, shooting at Brian. 

Evan takes his aim, and they go down in a blaze. 

Just as he prepares to cross the platform again, he hears the other helicopter explode as well. 

_ “Got ‘em!”  _ Brian shouts with pure relief. 

“Now come get me,” Evan demands, already scrabbling back up the ladder and debris to the higher platform. 

The helicopter hovers over him, the rope still swinging wildly from the landing skids. After a few tries, Evan finally grabs it and hooks himself up to it. 

He was never very good at rope climbing, and now, suddenly reminded of the Book pressing against his chest, it really isn’t easy. 

By the time he’s back in his seat, he’s covered in sweat and shaking, his muscles screaming at him. 

But they fucking did it. 

“We fucking did it,” Evan says, putting on the headset and collapsing into his seat. 

“We sure did,” Brian agrees, veering the helicopter to the jail. 

They’re back on the ground before Evan realizes. His adrenaline’s fading fast, and his body is feeling the full force of that day’s activities. 

The second they’ve landed in the parking lot, Evan’s on the ground and stumbling to the jail. Someone - not Brian, a random person in the Resistance, helps him to his cell. 

If someone notices that he clearly has a book under his vest, they say nothing. 

Evan falls onto his bed, and is out within seconds. 


	10. sweet dreams (aren't made of this)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan just wants a good night's rest. He won't get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is kinda rushed but I had to rewrite it like three times and I'm tired of looking at it, so enjoy

_ Welcome to the Bliss. _

Evan dreams he’s in a field of flowers. He can’t tell what kind of flowers, he never could tell them apart. 

They’re sparkling and white.

At least, he thinks they’re white. His entire vision is tinged green, but not an annoying green. It’s light, almost faded, pleasant to look at. It’s soothing.

Evan walks through the field, letting his hands touch the tall flowers. They whisper beneath his touch, encouraging him to keep going. 

_ Walk the path _ , they say. 

Whatever that means. 

Evan keeps walking, walking, and walking until he comes across the statue of Ohm. It’s intact, pristine. Peggies are bustling about the base of it, moving to and fro with Books of Ohm in their arms.

This is beyond surreal. It’s as if he was never there, as if he never even touched the statue with those rocket.

“You’ve been busy,” A voice says to his right. 

Evan isn’t startled by the voice. He feels so calm, so chill. So relaxed, in a way he hasn’t felt since he got back to this county.

Evan looks to his right, and isn’t surprised to see those careful eyes hiding behind red and blue sunglasses. 

Smitty smiles at him, grabbing his hand and leading him closer to the statue.

They’re still far from it, but it feels as if it’s right in front of them. 

Smitty stops in front of him, holding his hands out like he has a surprise. He holds his index finger to his lips, then gestures to the statue. 

Evan watches as it implodes before them; the concrete cracks, creaks, and falls apart. It falls off the framework in pieces bigger than a house. It falls to the ground, a cascade of destruction and debris. The peggies continue on their ways as if nothing is happening.

It should be terrifying. It should be loud. 

Evan feels calm. It’s quiet. 

Smitty turns his back to the continued destruction, looking at Evan with a blank expression. 

“That was rude, by the way. Blowing up the final destination of the Path. The final shrine they must worship, the final sign that the Prophet will always watch over them. Very rude.” 

“It was fun though.” Evan winces at his words. 

“Your fun means Ohm is pissed at me,” Smitty crosses his arms, his eyes glittering with something… off. 

Maybe Evan’s hallucinating, maybe he’s insane, but it’s almost like Smitty is… afraid of what his brother might do. 

But that’s ridiculous. You can’t hallucinate in a dream. 

“But I’m not here about that. I wanted to ask you if it was worth it.” Smitty grabs Evan’s hand once more, turning him around so all he sees is green hills and more flowers. 

He drags him down to the ground, sitting him down on the grass. 

“Do you truly know what you’re doing?” Smitty asks, leaning forward ever so slightly. He doesn’t let Evan reply before he shakes his head. “Of course you don’t.” He takes Evan’s hand again, dragging him up and leading him away.

Smitty walks backwards, keeping his focus on Evan as he takes him far away from the statue. They cover an impossible distance in such a short time, but the grass beneath their feet has turned into a river. They’re standing in a river, the water impossible clean, revealing every little stone and plant beneath the gentle current. 

Only then does Evan realize that he isn’t wearing shoes. Neither is Smitty. The water is cool on his feet.

Smitty moves out his vision, raising his hand to the scene before them. 

A group of people are sitting on the banks of the river, on either side of a bend. They sit there, enraptured by someone standing in the middle of the river. 

That someone is Ohm. He’s shirtless as usual, scars and tattoos on display. His jeans are rolled up, and he paces from one side of the river to the other as he preaches. He’s gesturing with his arms in controlled, graceful moves. 

Evan can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can hear the man’s voice. It’s soothing, rolling over him in waves. Silencing the qualms still trying to make their presence known in the back of his hazy mind.

“Even those who fight against us still deserve redemption,” Smitty near-whispers, patting Evan’s hand as he continues to slowly lead them closer to the revival. “You’re proof of that. We all need guidance in times like these.” 

Now, they’re close enough to hear the actual sermon. Ohm ignores their presence for now, keeping his focus on his faithful sitting on the banks. “Our path diverges from the outside, now and forever more. So we must be strong, we must be vigilant.” He’s encouraging, he’s reassuring.

Smitty leads Evan to the edge of the invisible pulpit and gives him one last look. “Now you’ll see. Now you’ll truly understand.” Then, Smitty is gone from his side, moving to go sit among the rest of the faithful on the banks, sitting to the side of someone who looks too much like John to be a coincidence.

Evan wants to go over to Smitty and John, to take John away from whatever this place is, but he can’t. 

His feet won’t listen to his brain. He screams at them to move, but they won’t.

Now does Evan realize he’s the only one standing, he’s the only other one in the river. He feels a slight spike of anxiety, but it’s smothered by the smile Ohm gives him. 

Ohm turns his body to face Evan. “Because those on the outside will see what we have built here together, down in Eden, the love we have spread. And they will come.” Ohm steps out of the makeshift circle, closer to Evan. “They will try from us all that we have built.” 

Evan can sense the words are directly pointed at him. A spark of guilt rushes through him, making his stomach curl in on itself. 

But then Ohm’s there, right in front of him. He reaches out, placing his hand on Evan’s shoulders. He holds the deputy in a firm grip; his hands are very warm. “You judge me,” Ohm says. There’s no malice in his voice. “You judge us. The things we have done.” At that, he sounds just the tiniest bit remorseful. 

Ohm looks to the ground, and Evan can see the barest of sad smiles on his lips. “People say… that I’m crazy.” Ohm looks back up, and even through the blindfold his gaze is so intense Evan feels he should be turning to stone. “But when you wake in the morning, you look at the same news I do.” Ohm’s grip on his shoulders tightens. “Do your eyes not fill with horror?” 

Something explodes in the distance. The sound shakes the ground, reverberating in Evan’s chest. 

Ohm walks past Evan, arms raised to the sky. “This is the world?!” 

Evan turns around, and freezes. A mushroom cloud fills the sky, all angry red and furious grays melding, heralding the end of everything. 

“This is the world we have built for our children?” Ohm speaks with such vitriol, it shakes Evan to his already-shaken core. He turns around, face alight with disgust. He raises one arm, gesturing to some invisible atrocity. “Communities being torn apart.” He raises his other arm in the same fashion. “Walls being erected, because leaders are too impotent to act!” 

Ohm lowers his arms, his hands clenched in his anger. “Bullies are too addled to lead righteously.” He raises one hand, now open and inviting, to Evan. 

Evan finds himself moving forward before he can even decide if he wants to. He’s face to face with Ohm, his hands once more on Evan’s shoulders. 

“I did not ask for this,” Ohm tells him. His voice is much calmer, much quieter. He sounds… almost helpless. “I was chosen.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Evan’s. 

A wave of heat washes over them, almost unbearable, but Evan can’t find it in himself to move. 

Ohm pulls away. Evan looks at the world around them with horror. 

It’s… destroyed. They’re still in the river, but the water’s just gone. The riverbed is dry and cracked. 

The world is burning. Everything is red. Everything is wrecked. 

Off to the side, a car is on fire. But all that’s left of the car is the frame, succumbing to the flames. 

Evan looks to Ohm, because he’s the only living thing for seemingly miles around. It all feels too real; the heat, the horror. Evan takes a step forward; his foot brushes against something that looks too much like a burnt teddy bear. He stays in place, keeping his eyes off the wasteland that is their world and on Ohm.

“Everything’s coming to an end,” Ohm states. “You can feel that. I know you can.” 

Ohm steps back, raising his arms to the destruction all around them. “See, mankind is weak. Vulnerable. And we are hurtling towards our destruction and no one is willing to do anything about it,” His volume is rising in tandem with his anger once more. “I can see that!  _ You  _ can see that!” he says while pointing to himself, and then Evan. 

“So what are we supposed to do?” Ohm asks,  _ demands _ . “We just sit back and await the inevitable?” He shakes his head. 

Ohm takes a deep breath, seemingly deflating before Evan’s eyes. His energy dissipates, leaving him as he is; an exhausted man, with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This time, it’s Evan stepping forward until they’re back in each other’s space. Ohm notices, and gives him a tired smile. He places his hands on Evan’s shoulders, and now it’s familiar. 

“I don’t claim to be a perfect man,” Ohm murmurs. “But I saw what was coming and I chose to act. To lead. Because society is broken, and the only way forward is to go back to the way things once were.”

Ohm nods the ground beneath their bare feet. 

Evan looks, and gasps. The ground - previously dry and barren dirt left over from the dry river, is now covered in those special white flowers. A circle of life surrounds the two of them, foreign amongst the wasteland. There’s even a butterfly fluttering around them.

“Innocent and pure,” Ohm whispers. “So safe and protected in our garden.” Ohm lets go of Evan, and he finds himself missing the touch. 

Ohm crouches to the ground, picking a single white flower. He examines it for a second, then stands and gives it to Evan. “I can save you,” He tells him, voice firm if still tired. 

Evan takes the flower, and his world starts washing away. His vision is fading - the destroyed land now washing away into pure white. 

The last thing he hears is Ohm saying “But you have to have faith.” 

And then the world is gone, and Evan falls asleep with it.

 

Evan wakes up in tears. 

He can still feel the lingering heat of his dream. Because that had to be a dream, right? That’s all it could’ve been, nothing more. 

Just a dream that felt incredibly real. 

The cool water of the river washing over his feet. The warmth of Ohm’s hand on his shoulders, somehow warming the rest of his body. The overwhelming heat of the destruction, of everything burning all around them. None of that was real. 

Evan sits up, only to notice he still has Smitty’s Book of Ohm underneath his vest. He carefully slides the Book out, then takes off the vest. He places the garment on the foot of his bed, a reminder to put it back in the helicopter. 

He goes to place the Book on the little table in his cell, only for something white and sparkling to already be sitting there. 

A flower. A Bliss flower. On his nightstand. 

Images flash behind his eyes, images of the world on fire, of Ohm standing amongst the chaos, ready to lead his flock to safety. Preaching against the end of humanity. Evan shakes his head to clear those unwanted images. 

It was only a dream. 

Evan picks up the flower, places the Book on the table face down, then puts the flower on top of it. It looks like a makeshift shrine, but he can’t find it in himself to care. 

It feels wrong to try and get rid of that Book. Maybe he’ll try and give it back to Smitty somehow. If he ever sees the youngest Wrecker in anything that isn’t an incredibly realistic dream. 

But for now, Evan resolves to go find Brian and figure out today’s plans. So he stands, stretches, winces as his shoulders pop far louder than they probably should, and heads out into the main area of the prison. 

Anthony’s there, leaning over a table with a couple other Resistance members. He’s probably planning some shit out, who knows. 

Once he sees Evan, he nods over to the exit. “Brian went outside, said he had a call to make.” 

“Thanks.” Evan doesn’t linger, moving as quickly as he dares through the prison. 

If Brian’s outside, he isn’t in front of the prison, or along the wall. Trying to ignore the bad thoughts filling his mind, whispering that his friend was taken, Evan rounds over to the back of the courtyard. 

And sure enough, there’s Brian sitting on a crate, back to the jail, hunched over his radio on his lap. He hasn’t noticed Evan’s arrival. 

_ “-miss you, Bri.”  _

Evan swallows. It’s Nogla, and he sounds… sad. 

“I miss you too,” Brian says, still unaware of the deputy lingering near the wall. “I’ll be back soon enough, yeah?” 

_ “You better be. This town sucks without you.”  _

“Has everythin’ been quiet?” 

_ “More or less. Usual shite, but nothin’ I can’t handle. How’s Evan doing? How are you doing?”  _

“My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked me that,” Brian speaks with adoration, but his tone implies that it isn’t the first time this conversation Nogla’s asked that question. “We’re still fine.” 

_ “I’m just… fuck.”  _

“I get it. Me too.” Brian checks his watch, and stands. “I have to go, love. I’ll see you soon.” 

_ “You better.”  _

The radio clicks off, and Brian turns to see Evan still standing there because he hadn’t thought to move. 

Brian startles at the sight of his friend, then grows a bit sheepish. “I, uh, guess you heard that?” 

“You can go home right now, if you want,” Evan says instead. “I mean it. You don’t have to stay with me.” He hates feeling like a burden, more than just about anything.

Brian shakes his head. “You need backup out here, I won’t leave you alone.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

Maybe his resolve is weak, or maybe he believes in Evan’s ability to survive with just dumb luck alone, or maybe he just doesn’t want to argue; whatever the reason, Brian relents. “Let me help out today, then I’ll head home, send you Scotty or Marcel to cover you.” 

“You don’t have to send them, I’ll be fine by myself,” Evan stresses even though just  _ thinking _ of facing this entire situation alone is enough to send shivers down his spine. 

“We all know you won’t be, so shut up.” 

Evan sighs. “Fine. But you’re going home by tonight.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 


	11. impromptu adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Brian go on one last mission which ends up with Evan getting a new pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of break for the poor lad, I think he's earned one.

“So where are we heading?” In retrospect, maybe Evan should’ve asked that before he got in the car with Brian. But he trusts Brian, so the thought didn’t occur to him until they pulled off the main road and onto a dirt one leading into the forest.

“There’s been chatter over the peggie radios about a cougar loose in the woods up here, and I’m pretty sure it’s Miss Mable’s cougar, Peaches.” 

“Miss Mable, God, I remember her.” Evan’s memories aren’t that fond; Miss Mable’s an old lady - old even before Evan had left - and rather rude and slightly racist towards Italians for some reason. She also runs a taxidermy business out of her home. Evan has a particularly bad memory of Miss Mable’s taxidermied animals, and would rather not look at them again. “She has a cougar now?” 

“Yep. Kinda domesticated, but I’m guessing not really since I’m pretty sure she’s chowing down on peggies now.” Brian sounds very nonchalant about the whole thing.

“We aren’t animal control,” Evan reminds him. “This is way above our paygrade.” 

“Suck it up. We’re going to rescue a cougar, and you’re going to deal with it.” 

“I will jump out the window-” 

“We’re here,” Brian cuts him off, hitting the brakes of the truck with more force than necessary. He gets out without another word, leaving Evan to scramble in the dust.

Miss Mable’s property is a clearing in the forest. Her house is situated near the back, with the rest being an open yard. The new addition that Evan knows wasn’t there years ago is a fenced in area, complete with a large dog house - or cat house, apparently, and some hay bales. 

Miss Mable herself is standing out front, wearing her usual all-pink ensemble, gloved hands holding what looks suspiciously like a dead rat in her hands, calling out to Peaches.

She stops when she sees the newcomers on her land. “If you two are with those stupid hippies, you best get off my land before I get my shotgun!” She says as she stomps over to a worktable towards the edge of the clearing. 

Brian raises his hands, offering a genial smile. “We aren’t peggies, ma’am. We’re here to help.” 

“Help with what?” Miss Mable shucks off her gloves, and does indeed grab the shotgun that had been sitting on the table. 

“We heard Peaches got out, we were wondering if you’d like for us to go and get her back.” Brian speaks with a nice, soothing tone, as if you can soothe an old lady when she’s angry and wielding a firearm.

Miss Mable eyes Brian, then Evan, then apparently decides that they’re worth her time. She puts down the shotgun, and grabs a large bag - the kind dog or cat food is stored in - and stalks over to the two of them. 

“Those miserable shits raided my place trying to kill my Peaches, and now she’s raced off for her revenge,” Miss Mable tells them as she shoves the bag into Evan’s arms. If the picture on the front is anything to go by, it’s definitely filled with more dead rodents. “She’s probably at the old campsite, it smells like hotdogs and peggie desperation down there. Even if she’s been eating every damn hippie she’s seen, she’s a whore for treats, so lead her back here with them. Now, go get my kitty back!” She ushers them off her property, onto a trail leading down the hill they drove up. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Brian calls behind him as he and Evan quickly trudge towards the direction of the campsite that neither of them actually ever camped at.

“She’s even meaner than I remember,” Evan mutters, repositioning the bag of cougar treats in his arms. 

Brian shushes him, straining his ears to listen for something, for either Miss Mable, the cougar, or peggies.

They continue hiking down the trail, only pausing when they reach a bridge. It’s a small bridge, but before it starts lays a cultist’s body, clearly identified by the starburst cross painted on the back of their sweater. They’re on their stomach, with puncture marks on their neck, as if something - a cougar, perhaps - pounced on them from behind. 

A scrap of paper hangs from their pocket. Brian bends down to pick it up, scans it, and laughs. He brandishes it to Evan, shaking his head in amusement. “These motherfuckers went ‘open season’ on Peaches. They’re really determined to kill that cougar.” 

“Then we should get there before they do,” Evan reasons, shifting the bag of treats in his arms once more. 

“It ain’t Peaches I’m worried about.” Brian pockets the scrap and keeps going down the trail. 

They’re definitely getting closer to the campsite - the sounds of a struggle are getting louder. Someone’s yelling orders, someone’s just plain yelling, and someone else is firing their weapon blindly into the brush.

Brian crouches, signals for Evan to do the same, then edges towards the campsite. 

They hide behind a large rock, watching the scene unfold. 

Two peggies are standing in the middle of the campsite, back to back, rotating with their firearms raised. They both look scared shitless. 

Another peggie - the one shouting orders - is further off, hidden by the trees. 

The one that was firing blindly screamed once, and now they’re quiet. 

“I’ll handle them, you get the treats ready,” Brian whispers, already grabbing for his pistol. 

Evan nods. He isn’t much use holding the bag of treats, and he can’t put them down without rustling the plastic and drawing all the attention to himself. 

The peggie that was barking orders screams, then the sound of a body hitting the ground sits heavy in the air. Seems they’re down for the count. 

Brian takes a deep breath, then pops over the rock. He shoots twice, ducks back down, waits, then looks. 

The two cultists that were in the middle of the campsite are down, with new bullet holes in their heads to show off to their dead friends. 

Evan fights the urge to laugh; this is not the place, nor the time. It’s also probably not healthy to laugh at something like that. So he stands, and grabs for a treat. As soon as he touches the cold carcass of a rat, he grimaces and wishes he had brought some of Miss Mable’s gloves. 

“Peaches, here kitty kitty,” Brian calls, holstering his pistol and circling around the campsite. 

Evan crouches down, holding out the treat in his hand, eyes wildly scanning the edge of the clearing. 

They wait for a single moment. Something rustles in the brush in front of Evan. 

“Here, Peaches,” Evan calls out softly, tossing the rodent a few feet in front of him. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s calling to a fucking cougar that just mauled who knows how many cultists. 

Just as Miss Mable said, the treat is enough for Peaches. 

The cougar pokes her head out from the brush, eyeing her surroundings carefully. Evan sharply inhales at the sight of her. He’s never been this close to any kind of cougar, and Peaches is a very pretty one. She has one brown eye, and one blue eye. She’s a very pretty, very deadly kitty. 

Peaches begins to leave the bush she was hiding in, very slowly walking towards the treat on the ground. 

Both Brian and Evan watch as she decides to eat it. 

Brian lets out a sigh of relief. Evan slowly rises, taking out another treat and tossing it to the direction they need to start heading back. 

Peaches goes after the treat, and Brian gives Evan a grin. 

“Wasn’t this worth it?” He asks, hands on his hips and eyebrow cocked. 

Evan considers it. Mulls over it. Thinks about the rodents he’s still carrying. Thinks about how nasty this campground is now, drenched in blood and half-mauled peggies. Thinks about Peaches’ very pretty duo-colored eyes. 

“We aren’t done yet,” Evan finally answers. He ignores Brian’s smirk as he goes after Peaches, tossing another treat a bit further up the path. 

They return to Miss Mable’s like that, treat after treat, Peaches going after each one because apparently she’s a bottomless pit, Evan and Brian trailing behind her. 

When they return to the forest clearing, Evan tosses one last treat into Peaches’ cage, shutting the gate after her. It’s a good thing, too, there’s only a few more rodents left and he has absolutely no fucking idea where to go get more. 

Miss Mable comes out of her house, pushing past the two men standing in front of her to scold Peaches. “Did you have a good time out there?” Miss Mable asks the cat, arms crossed and foot tapping on the ground. “You could’ve died, you stupid kitty! But no, you just had to go antagonize those dumbass hippies-” 

She’s cut off by the roar of ATV’s getting far too close to the clearing to be a coincidence. 

Brian and Evan share a single look, then split off to cover both sides of the house. Neither keeps track of the old lady grabbing her shotgun and heading for her porch. 

Three ATV’s are pulled up behind Brian’s truck, but all their passengers are gone, presumably to get the jump on all of them as they had gathered around Peaches. 

But they aren’t hiding very well; Evan can hear at least two of them in the woods to his right, trampling over fallen foliage and sticks with no fucks given. 

He pumps his shotgun once, a warning. 

The peggies do not take heed of his warning. 

Evan waits until one of them pokes out from behind a tree, and fires a buckshot directly into their chest. 

They drop to the ground, yet another warning to their buddy that this isn’t going the way they want it to. 

Shots are fired on the other side of the house, and Miss Mable’s yelling at the peggies, shouting for them to get off her property unless they wanna get pumped full of lead. 

The second cultist by Evan decides they won’t listen. They shoot once, right into the house, mere inches above Evan’s head. 

He’s glad he decided to crouch down low behind a crate of some sort of supplies, ‘cause if he hadn’t, he would no longer have an intact skull. 

That said… 

Evan fires blindly once. He waits a single millisecond, then pops his head up. The peggie was hit in the leg; they’re now slumped against a tree, body hidden but their stretched out leg is just barely visible. 

“Peaches, no!” Brian shouts, voice muffled from being on the other side of the house. 

Evan waits, wondering just what the fuck is going on. 

There’s more rustling from behind him. He whips his head around, sees a blur of orange-brown fur, then nothing. 

Then the peggie still behind the tree screams once. Then silence. 

No one says anything for a moment. 

Evan stands up, shotgun held firm in his hands. He can hear something crunch, and it isn’t a stick. He creeps over to the woods, making his footsteps loud enough to not startle the cougar. She hasn’t moved from the body. 

Evan rounds the tree, and freezes at the sight. 

Peaches, muzzle now covered in fresh blood, looks up at him. She chirps in that weird cat-way, and continues what she was doing. Which was eating the peggie, now thoroughly dead on the forest floor. Like just chomping down on their arm. 

Evan veers off to the side, vomiting onto the floor without hesitation. 

He feels a pair of hands on him, one on his shoulder and one patting his back as he continues to gag. 

“This is exactly what I wanted to avoid,” Miss Mable tells them, standing near her house, looking every bit as displeased as she sounds. 

“We’ll clean Peaches up,” Brian tries, wanting to not face the barrel of her own shotgun to his face.

“Not that!” Miss Mable hisses. She gestures to the body, and to the others presumably lounging about on her property. “The damn hippies coming here again! You know what? Take Peaches with you. I’ve enjoyed not having to deal with her incessant needs, and I don’t need these cultists coming for her at my old age.” She stalks off without another word, entering her house if the slam of a door is anything to go by. 

Evan looks at Brian, throat sore but he no longer feels like vomiting. Not that he has much left in his stomach to get rid of anyways. He swallows roughly, then glances at Peaches, still happily chowing down. 

“Were we just given a cougar?” he asks hoarsely. 

Brian starts rummaging around in his pack, then takes out a water bottle. He takes the cap off before he gives it to Evan. “I think we were,” He says softly. 

Evan greedily drinks the water down as Brian drops to his knees beside the cougar. 

Peaches mostly ignores him, but he can tell that she’s watching him as she eats. Brian reaches out his hand, letting it hang in the air a few inches from her shoulder. 

Peaches looks at him, gingerly sniffs his hand, then goes back to eating. Brian reaches a bit further, enough for his fingertips to brush her fur. When she doesn’t immediately eat his hand, he starts to pet her. 

The scene is enough to make Evan want to walk into the river and never come out. Brian’s just sitting there, petting a fucking cougar as it eats a dead body. 

The worst part is that Peaches is purring, and it’s kinda… cute. 

Brian grins, excitement glittering in his eyes. Eventually Peaches is done eating, so she turns to face Brian, nuzzling into his hand and chirping a little. 

Brian looks at Evan with pure joy. He waves frantically, patting the ground beside him. “Dude, pet her, she’s amazing!” 

Evan takes a look at the cougar. Right now, she seems like an ordinary cat. Just big and covered in blood. 

He sits down, throwing his care in the wind and reaching his hand out. 

Peaches greets him without a second thought, rubbing against his hand and purring like a damn freight train. Her purr is so powerful that it seems like the ground is vibrating with her. 

She does that weird half-squeak half-meow at him, looking up at him with her duo-colored eyes. 

Evan’s heart melts. He’s always had a soft spot for cats, and though she’s getting some peggie blood on his hand when she nuzzles into his palm, she’s still a goddamn cutie. 

And apparently, she’s also theirs. Miss Mable’s missing out on this. 

“Get the fuck off my land!” 

Speak of the devil, and she will appear. 

Miss Mable raps on the window closest to the three of them, glaring at them through the dirty glass. 

Evan and Brian jump up, startling Peaches a little. 

“Sorry, ma’am!” Brian calls out, rubbing his neck. He looks at Peaches, then at Evan. “How… how do we get her anywhere?” 

Evan shrugs, watching Peaches as she weaves around their legs. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Figuring it out means that Evan and Peaches are seated in the bed of the truck, Evan with his back to the cab and one hand hooked around Peaches’ collar. 

It’s a pinch collar, with a tag shaped like a fish, and Peaches’ name etched into the metal. There’s a phone number on the back, which he assumes is Miss Mables’. Should he get her a new tag, since she’s apparently his cat now? 

Brian decided to give him full ownership. He insisted that she’s going to be his new backup from now on. 

“So you’re not alone, but you also don’t have to feel bad about dragging us out with you,” Brian had reasoned. 

And while Evan would rather leave Peaches back in Fall’s End or even at the county jail, he knows that this is the best option he has as far as being forced to have someone with him at all times. 

And as far as back up goes, she’s definitely not the worst. She’s cute, and cuddly - she’s all flopped down on the bed, pressed up against Evan’s leg and watching the scenery go by as Brian drives at a much slower speed than before. 

Given this extended car ride all the way across the county, Evan takes the time to do something he normally doesn’t do at all - plan out his next move. 

He should probably stay clear of the Henbane for a while now. He’d really rather not go through another Bliss dream or whatever the fuck that was. Even just thinking about conjures up phantom-heat prickling his body. 

Evan shakes his head, clearing the thoughts like an etch-a-sketch. No more Henbane for him. 

He’d also rather not go back to the Valley quite yet. Delirious hasn’t exactly made it the most welcoming place to be. 

So that only leaves one last region he hasn’t been in yet. He’d been trying to avoid for as long as possible, but it seems that the time has come. He has to go the Whitetail Mountains, where his past resides. 

Evan’s hand clenches tighter in Peaches’ fur, to the point where she naws on his hand for him to release her. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. He pets her as consolation, and takes a moment to appreciate the fact that Miss Mable hated her enough to give him Peaches. 

Hopefully, it’ll be better going into the mountains with a cougar than with another person, friend or not. He’d rather face his past by himself, alone with his regrets and shame. 

Evan’s yanked out of his thoughts by Delirious’ face looming at him from the side of the road, slowly fading in the distance.

He startles, almost kneeing Peaches’ in the side, until he realizes it’s only a billboard, advertising the Power of Yes. 

He forgot that those existed. Another reason to not linger in the valley for too long.

When they finally arrive back at Fall’s End, Peaches doesn’t allow the truck to come to a full stop beside the Spread Eagle before she tries to jump out, damn near taking Evan’s arm with her since he forgot his hand was still holding onto her collar. 

He barely manages to catch himself from face-planting the truck bed, and he’s pretty sure that she almost dislocated his shoulder. He lets go of her before she can yank it out of its socket properly, and she goes propelling around the town. 

He really hopes that this decision won’t bite him in the ass. Most of these people should know about Peaches, right? Surely they won’t shoot at her.

Brian gets out of the truck, watching the cougar run around with an amused expression. 

“What the fuck is that?” A very familiar Irish drawl booms in the otherwise quiet air. 

Evan startles, but Brian takes off the direction of it. 

Evan watches as Brian sprints at Nogla, tackling him in a bear hug that nearly sends the both of them to the ground. 

Peaches makes her way back to the deputy, screeching at him and head-butting his legs again. He crouches down to pet her, having turned away from the two Irishmen. It feels weird to watch their reunion, so Evan settles on watching the road leading out of town. 

It’s late afternoon, leaving plenty of time in the day to go fuck some more shit up before night hits. Peaches also seems eager to go, now unable to stand still after the car ride. 

Two pairs of footsteps near him, one of them getting closer than the other. 

Nogla stands a good few feet from him, eyeing the cougar warily. “I ask again, the fuck is this?” 

“Peaches, Nogla. Nogla, Peaches,” Evan introduces them with a wave of his hand. 

“Mable’s cat? Why do you have Mable’s cat?” 

“She gave her to us,” Brian tells him, bending down to pet Peaches a little. “Peggies kept tryin’ to kill her, so Mable just gave us the cat.”

“Fuck me, really?” Nogla huffed. He sits down on the ground, awkwardly folding his lanky legs beneath him. He reaches out, cooing to Peaches.

She doesn’t react to him, just stays near Evan.

Nogla frowns at the cat. 

“I think she has a favorite person,” Brian murmurs. 

Evan doesn’t really know how to react to that. He turns to Peaches, who looks back at him with her pretty eyes. “You have bad choice in humans,” He tells her. 

She doesn’t seem to agree. 

“Where’s Joe and Tony?” Brian asks, suddenly remembering the two small dogs that usually tail his favorite Irishman everywhere. 

“Left ‘em upstairs when I saw the cougar in the back of your truck,” Nogla says with a grin. He gets up off the ground, stretching his arms. “So what’s the plan, boys?” 

“I’m gonna head back out, I think up to the Whitetails now,” Evan says, absentmindedly petting Peaches as he thinks.

“Without Brian?” 

“He’s ditching me,” Brian says with a grin. 

“Am not!” Evan huffs. “It’s not my fault Peaches is better company than you. She doesn’t talk.” 

“Wow.  _ Wow _ .” Brian shakes his head, looking at Nogla. “Can you believe this?” 

“I can see it,” Nogla says. “You do talk a lot, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck the both of you’s, I’m goin’ inside.” Brian ducks an attempted kiss from Nogla, and stalks into the Spread Eagle. 

Nogla waits until his love disappears into the bar, old wooden doors creaking shut behind him, before he turns to Evan with concern etched plain in his frown. “You’re goin’ to the mountains, now?” 

Evan nods slowly, mouth pressed into a thin line of resignation. “Yep.” 

“If you need anythin’, or- or anyone for that matter, you can always radio us. If you want Bri back, you can take him-” 

“It’s okay,” Evan reassures, standing up and enveloping his much taller friend in a hug. “I’ll be fine, I promise. You just stay here with Brian, take care of things on this end.” 

Nogla returns the hug, patting Evan’s back lightly. “We’ll keep workin’ and shite, fucking up Delirious.” 

“Just don’t get yourselves killed is all I ask.” 

“We’ll try.” 

Evan withdraws from the hug, facing Peaches as she lounges in the sun. “I guess we’d better get going.” Only now does he realize he has no transportation. 

“Take Brian’s truck,” Nogla offers. “We got more, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Only if Brian’s okay with it.” 

“Fine.” Nogla turns to face the bar, cupping his hands around his mouth. “BRIAN!” 

“What,  _ what _ ?” Brian pokes his head out of one the windows from the apartment above bar, searching the land frantically for any sense of danger. 

“Can Evan take your truck?”

Brian just looks at Nogla, looking as if he’s already regretting his decision to stay home. “Fucker, I thought someone was  _ dying _ out here! Yes, Evan can take my truck, but fuck, you’ve probably disturbed the rest of town!” 

Nogla waves him off. “Psh, they’re fine.”

Brian disappears back into the window for a second, then reappears and throws something at Evan’s feet. 

Evan picks the object up, realizing that it’s the keys to the truck - now covered in dirt though. “Thanks,” He calls back up to Brian. 

“Don’t wreck the damn thing.” 

“I won’t. Bye, Brian.” Evan turns to Nogla, giving him one last hug. “Bye, Nogla.” 

“Bye, Ev.” 

“Peaches, come on.” Evan pats his leg, and Peaches slowly stands, performing some weird cat stretch before looking at him patiently.

He walks over to the truck, manages to get Peaches into the passenger seat - he has to crank the window down for her to be nice and sit there - then gets in the driver’s seat. He wonders if he should buckle her up. He probably shouldn’t; it seems unfair for her to be buckled up when he won’t be.

Evan glances back at Nogla, still standing there, and Brian, still looking out the window. Evan waves to them, and they wave back. 

Then he drives off, heading for the Whitetails.

Out of nowhere, a song bursts to life in Evan’s head. 

_ He’ll be comin’ round the mountain when he comes. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that I think about, I dunno if cougars can have duo-colored eyes, but in the game, Peaches does, so...


	12. hunting season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evans meets up with another old friend, and they go hunting together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay new people!! time for some kick-ass ladies!!

Evan had fully expected the drive to the Whitetails to be more than a little difficult with a cougar in the truck, but so far, Peaches is proving to be an excellent passenger. She just sits in her seat and looks out the window, occasionally flicking her tail at some random wildlife. 

Evan takes this time to radio in to Marcel and Scotty, silently placing bets on who will answer first. 

It’s Scotty who answers, much to his surprise, almost instantly.  _ “Yo, Evan, what’s up? Heard you got Miss Mable’s cougar, that’s pretty sick, dude.”  _

“Yeah, she’s a good kitty,” Evan looks over to Peaches, who’s still watching the scenery. “Have you heard about everything that’s been going on?” 

_ “Just about, yeah.”  _

“So you know I’m going into the mountains.” 

Scotty hesitates, pressing the receiver but saying nothing. 

Evan feels just about the same amount of excitement, but he has to do this. “Got any tips or tricks or shit I should be aware of?” 

_ “The fuckin’ Judges, first off. Wolves that have been, like, mutated or some shit with the Bliss. They’re bigger and more vicious than regular wolves, and all the peggies painted the dumb cross on their fur, so they’re easily identifiable. Tyler’s pet project, I guess you would call ‘em.” _

Evan’s now really glad he’s alone, so no one can see the color draining from his face. “A-Anything else?” He manages to ask. 

_ “His Chosen, peggies that rose above the ranks, are crazy-good hunters. There’s no use in running from them, and they always roam with one or two Judges at a time. So don’t get captured by them if you can help it.”  _

“That’s the plan.” 

_ “Like, seriously, don’t get fucking captured by Tyler. He puts people through trials, half the time they don’t survive them, and the other half lose their minds in the process.”  _

“Okay.” He can’t help but think of Craig, having been confined there all this time. Has he survived these trials? Has he lost his mind?

Evan doesn’t want to ask what kind of trials. He doesn’t want any part of this. None of this sounds like the Tyler he knew as a kid. 

What the fuck happened since Evan left? Does he even want to know? 

Evan notices the blue sign on the side of the road signaling that he’s now officially in the Whitetail mountains. He could turn the truck around, head back through Fall’s End, through the Valley, across county lines, back home. 

Back to the friends he made there, back to his calm and somewhat boring job as a junior deputy in a city without a cult, back to regretting his past and knowing nothing about what has happened since.

It’s getting harder to breath, and Evan knows it isn’t because of the higher elevation from the mountains. 

He pulls the car over to the side of the road, mindful of some roadkill that he doesn’t even want to look at in case it’s human. He puts down the receiver to his stupid, plastic radio, and buries his hand in Peaches’ fur. 

She chirps at him, purring damn near instantly. She headbutts his hand, and he reaches his other hand - previously gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles pale, and scratches the cougar behind her ears. 

Evan focuses on his breathing, and on Peaches’ purring. He times his breaths with her flicking her tail, in and out, in and out, in and out. 

He had forgotten that he and Scotty were in the middle of a conversation until his radio crackles back to life, static startling both him and Peaches. 

_ “You good, man? You sure you don’t need someone with you?”  _

Evan fumbles for the receiver, trying his best to sound normal as he says, “N-No, I’m good. It’s just… nevermind, I’m good.” 

_ “Okay,” _ Scotty relents. He still sounds displeased with Evan being alone, but he knows when to not push something.  _ “You’re gonna wanna get in touch with the Resistance group up there, they call themselves the Whitetails.”  _

“The Whitetails in the Whitetail mountains with Whitetail deer,” Evan murmurs, mostly to himself but it doesn’t go unheard. 

_ “No one ever said Hope County was popular for our naming abilities, man. Anyway, the Whitetails themselves are pretty secluded, so you’re gonna have to make waves for them to notice you. They’re lead by Kelly, you remember her?”  _

“A little, yeah.” Evan always liked Kelly, mostly because she was chaotic in her own way. She and him were always trying to go into the woods to both see and mess with the wildlife.

_ “She worked at the F.A.N.G. center, you know, that animal sanctuary slash zoo thing? Then the whole cult shit started up, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. Now she’s leading the Res against Tyler.” _

Feeling a bit better having pet Peaches, Evan starts the car back up and continues on his way. “So how do I get in touch with her?” 

_ “Like I said, start making waves. The old lumber mill’s a good place to start, radio calls for help have been coming from there but they’ve stopped recently. You remember where that is?”  _

“Yep, I’m on my way. I’ll radio you later.” 

_ “Godspeed, pilgrim.” _

 

The lumber mill sits pretty close to the border between the mountains and the Henbane. As he drives along the winding roads, Evan’s fairly certain he can see Bliss fields from across the sparkling water that is the river.

As expected the lumber mill is overrun with peggies. Perched on a hill with Peaches beside him, Evan scopes out the scene to find the best course of action. 

He isn’t really seeing a ‘good’ one so far. 

There’s two alarms, at least one peggie carrying a machine gun, and several more roaming the grounds. Of course, that’s not telling how many are inside the actual mill, which he hopes isn’t many more. 

Maybe he should’ve brought backup. 

Whatever, it’s too late for that now. He’ll just have to take care of this himself. 

That one peggie’s machine gun is looking mighty nice right about now. 

Evan resolves to go get it after he disables the alarms. The only problem now is Peaches. He looks at her, and she looks right back. 

“Stay,” He whispers, pointing to the ground below her. 

Peaches just blinks at him. 

He hopes that’s enough, and leaves his post on the hill. He makes his way to the first alarm, weaving around piles of logs and crates of unnamed supplies. 

He doesn’t notice the peggie that was coming up behind him until he hears their body thump to the ground. 

Evan whirls around, only to see Peaches herself sitting on top of the body, her teeth still firmly latched onto their neck. 

So she doesn’t know how to stay, but she does know who her enemies are. Evan doesn’t really feel like using her to kill these people, but she’s already proven to be helpful when his dumbass doesn’t notice them.

Evan liberates the baseball bat off the body, and trudges onward to the alarm. He disables it without trouble, then heads over to the other. 

He gets there with only one more close call, Peaches again coming to his rescue. 

He’s slowly starting to like her more and more, if he’s being honest with himself. He takes the assault rifle that cultist had been carrying, and pets Peaches as a reward. 

Once the second alarm is disabled, Evan starts making his way back up to higher elevation. 

He makes it back up a different hill, and readies his missile launcher. He notices the peggie with the machine gun standing in between a couple trucks parked in front of the mill. Knowing he’s going to blow that peggie to bits, Evan says a quick apology to the machine gun - he really wanted to use it, and now he won’t be able to. He fires a missile to the trucks, watching them explode with a decent bit of satisfaction. 

He spots a cultist making their way around the mill, shotgun raised. Deciding to try something new, Evan points to them, shouting “Sic ‘em!” at Peaches. 

The cougar races off without hesitation, barreling after the cultist dumb enough to not see her. Evan’s pretty sure he can hear them shout “Bad kitty!” a couple times before they go down with another yell. 

Grabbing the assault rifle he picked up, Evan sprints down the hill, meeting the onslaught of peggies.

It takes a good few minutes, but with some effort and patience, the lumber mill is officially liberated. 

As much as Evan wants to sit down, he can’t. During the epic battle for the mill, Evan found a set of cages in the actual mill, at least six of them, and all were occupied by poor civilians who all look like they’ve never fired a gun before in their life. 

Ears ringing and adrenaline pumping, Evan searches the mill for the keys. He finds them up on the third floor, in an office of sorts. He very much hopes they’re the keys for the cages and not the mill, and runs back down stairs.

As he does, he grabs his radio. “Earth to Scotty and or Marcel, come in.” 

_ “Yo, dude, did you get the mill?”  _ It’s Marcel that picks up this time. 

“I sure as shit did,” Evan reports as he climbs down the stairs as quickly as he can with both hands full. “Lumber mill is peggie-free.” 

_ “I’ll radio Kelly, hopefully she’ll believe us. I’ll also get ahold of any milita in the area, see if I can you a team to hold down the fort.”  _

“Cool, I’ll be here for a bit. Talk to you later.” Evan releases the receiver to start unlocking the cages. It takes a few tries of the various keys, but eventually he finds the one for the stupid metal cages. 

The people in them are all huddled in the corner, some of them crying, some of them shaking, all looking distressed but one. In the furthest cage, far from the others, is a young woman. She’s sitting on the ground, back to the cage and legs bent in front of her; she almost looks relaxed in the cage, or at least as if she doesn’t care what happens. Her face is hidden beneath the hood of her jacket, but he has a feeling that even if he could see her face, he wouldn’t be able to read her emotions at all. 

He ignores her for a second, setting about freeing the rest of the trapped people. Once free, they all swarm Evan, chanting their thanks. When he frees the young woman, she just nods at him and then heads outside. 

He would go after her, but then a couple vans pull up outside, their engines loud over the chattering of the freed civilians.

Rifle raised, Evan goes out to greet them, followed closely by Peaches. He relaxes when he realizes it’s just the team Marcel promised him. 

There’s probably at least ten people, all of them with firearms and some of them with cleaning supplies.

Evan goes to greet them, but his eyes catch on something bright against the wall. Upon closer inspection, it’s a piece of paper nailed to the outer wall of the mill. 

It’s a wanted poster. For him. 

But instead of  _ WANTED _ being in big bold letters, it’s  _ SINNER _ , red and blaring over a picture of Evan. A very familiar picture of him, wearing his deputy’s uniform. The picture that the police department took of him for their records. 

Seeing himself there, in his cop uniform, branded a  _ SINNER _ , hurts his head. This isn’t why he became a cop at all - he wanted to help people! Evan feels his hands clench tighter around his rifle, feels the irritation-bordering-on-anger bubbling in his throat. He’s just trying to  _ save _ people, and that makes him a  _ SINNER _ ?

He’s about to unload an entire magazine into the horrible poster when Peaches steps on his foot, alerting him to the presence of someone else. 

One of the van drivers, an older-looking woman with short hair and determination etched into her face, marches on up to Evan, fully ignoring the cougar by his side. 

“Thank you for clearing out this place,” She says, sticking her hand out. “I’m Maria, I’m here to help maintain everything on this front.” 

He shakes her hand while Peaches sniffs her shoes. He focuses solely on this Maria lady to ignore the anger still present in his veins. “Nice to meet you, I’m-” 

“Evan, I know. Pretty much everyone in the county knows you, son. And after this, there’s no way Tyler won’t know you’re in his region. I’d be careful, even if you do have pretty little Peaches by your side.” Maria crouches down to pet said cougar a little before standing back up. “Well, I’m gonna help make this place a bit more habitable. Thanks again, we’d be up a creek without you.” 

Evan watches her go off into the mill, now unsure of what to do with himself. That’s answered rather quickly for him by a tap on his shoulder. 

He turns around to find himself face to face with the young woman he freed. She lowers the hood of her ragged green jacket that’s definitely a few sizes too big for her, revealing  kinda-long brown hair and  _ very _ defined eyebrows. Evan doesn’t think he’s even seen such sharp edges to someone’s brows. He’s a little intimidated by them. 

“You Evan Fong?” She asks, crossing her arms. She has a compound strung on her back, and at least two knives strapped to her legs, one on each thigh. Definitely a hunter.

“Who are you?” Evan tightens his grip on his rifle. 

“Name’s Simone. Thanks for bustin’ me out,” She says, although maybe a bit begrudgingly. “If you’re out here picking fights with the cult, then I’m guessing you already know  Marcel and Scott.” 

“Simone!” Evan blinks in surprise, grinning at his old friend. “It’s you!” 

“Yeah, it’s me, dipshit.” There’s no heat to her words, but there isn’t much else either. She lets Evan pull her into a hug, though, so he takes that as a good sign. 

They had a pretty great friendship before he left. He could always count on her to back him up if he had a stupid idea that no one else would entertain. And though this Simone seems very,  _ very _ different from the Simone he used to know, he’s willing to attempt to build that friendship back up with her.

“What did you need help with?” Evan asks, eager to go fuck some shit up with her. 

“Walk with me.” Simone goes off, heading for behind the mill. “I’ll cut to the point - I was on the track of one of Tyler’s zealots. Goes by the name The Cook.”

Evan raises an eyebrow at her, but continues following her all the same. 

“Yeah, I know it don’t sound so scary, but believe me, he’s one twisted fuck. Almost tracked him down, but a peggie patrol got the drop on me. That’s why I need your help, I can’t let this trail go cold. This guy’s butchered a lot innocent people, and we can’t let him keep getting away with it. You in?” 

Evan ignores his stomach seemingly dropping straight to the ground, and nods. “I’m in.” 

“I knew I could count on you.” Simone smiles at him - a rare, genuine smile. Her smile’s gone as soon as it appeared, but Evan will never forget it. 

Together with Peaches, Simone takes them on a path that goes from behind the lumber mill up the mountain. It’s a fairly worn path, obviously well-used by the peggies. 

As they start trekking up the actual mountain, Simone points to something a bit off the path.

It’s a hole in the ground, dug a good fifty feet behind the mill in a small field of sorts. Evan can’t see into the hole, but the smoke rising from it and the charred ground is telling enough. 

“That’s his calling card,” Simone tells him through gritted teeth. “Innocent people, burned alive.” She stops for a moment, looking at the hole with pure rage in her heart. 

Then she moves on, leaving Evan and Peaches to scramble to keep up with her hardened pace. 

“Goddamn cult’s grabbing everyone,” She mutters. “They’ll take you from your home, the bar, even church. It doesn’t matter where you are. Then they slot you into one of two categories. Weak, or strong. See, Tyler’s building an army, and anyone who can’t - or won’t - fight for him winds up dead. ‘Culling the herd’, he calls it. Wholesale slaughter of innocent people. Nobody believed it was happening. Nobody wanted to believe.” Her voice is soft and grim. 

Evan wants to throw up. He can’t believe that the Tyler he knew would ever do these horrible things. It makes his head hurt so much it feels as if it’s splitting in two. 

Simone pauses as they come upon another pile burned bodies surrounded by charred earth. 

“Then, there’s the Cook. One of Tyler’s favorites.” She speaks with such pure, unbridled hatred; it makes Evan shudder. 

“The one who leads his purging,” Simone continues. “The Cook’s bought into all of Tyler’s bullshit, but this motherfucker is gonna get what he deserves.” 

She gestures for him to follow, and he does. They weave around a large outcropping of rocks, heading a bit off the path. 

Someone’s screams are echoing off the mountain, bouncing off the unforgiving ground and flying into the air. 

Simone leads Evan over to a large rock hanging off a small cliff, forming a vantage point for the scene before them. 

It’s a peggie camp. A trailer takes up one side, while the rest is occupied by more cages and patrolling peggies. One of them has a machine gun, and keeps pacing up and down the aisle of sorts formed by the cages that look like large dog crates. All but a couple of them are occupied - there’s at least three civilians in them.

“Don’t see him,” Simone mutters, eyeing the scene with hooded eyes. She seems as if she’s seen this before, with how she’s taking it in. 

Evan wants to scream just looking at it. But he won’t. 

“Keep quiet - if the peggies know we’re here, they’ll kill those hostages.” Simone draws her bow, notching an arrow and aiming for the peggie with the machine gun. 

Evan readies his rifle. “On your cue,” He murmurs, switching the safety off. 

She waits a single second more, then lets her arrow fly. It hits the peggie directly in the throat, killing him before his body can even hit the ground. 

Evan shoots at the cultists nearest to the cages, watching out the corner of his eye as Peaches goes barreling down the hill. 

She pounces on a peggie with their back turned; they yelp, and then they’re down for the count. 

Simone shoots one last arrow, and then the camp is clear. 

The two of them go about setting the hostages free. Evan just shoots the locks on the cages, and bam! freed civilians. 

“The Cook took the rest up the mountain,” One of them manages to say between sobbing over their freedom. 

Simone doesn’t waste another second - she’s already past the camp by the time Evan realizes she left. 

He and Peaches manage to catch up with her before she gets too far though. 

“Do you know why the call him the Cook?” Simone asks, voice shrouded in disgust. She kicks a rock down the side of the mountain, watching it tumble as she moves on up the path. 

“He cooks people?” Evan guesses. 

“He torches them alive,” She corrects him. “A few years ago, he sent a patrol out to go roundup a family - parents and their kids. Starved them all, wouldn’t even let them have water until the kids had passed out and were so near death they couldn’t even keep their eyes open. Once he gave the kids something to drink, he asked if they were hungry.” Simone stops, looking Evan dead in the eyes. “The kids were starving.” 

Evan’s getting the sense that this story is heavier than she’s making it seem. He can’t really explain it, but there’s a sense of… foreboding that’s clouding his mind as she tells him this. 

Evan goes to say something - he doesn’t know what, but he doesn’t want to hear the end of this story - but someone’s yells cut through the air. 

They must be at another camp. 

Simone jerks her head towards the path. “C’mon, let’s find another vantage point.” 

A few seconds later, and they’re staring down into a quarry. It’s pretty shallow as far as quarries go, but at the bottom is another pit of charred corpses. 

The smell of it all - gunpowder, burned flesh - it’s damn near too much. This entire experience is almost too much. 

But Evan swallows down his misery, and raises his rifle as Simone notches an arrow. 

The peggies are killed within a few minutes; Evan thinks that he and Simone make a good team. 

They silently get down into the actual quarry, freeing the few hostages that were tied up. 

Evan goes to help a woman tied up far too close to the charred pit. Once free, she immediately collapses onto the deputy, sobbing in his arms.

“M-my wife, they took my wife to the Pit!” The civilian tells them, frantically wiping away her tears with her hand that isn’t clenched in Evan’s shirt.

“We’ll go get her back,” Evan says, sitting the man down on a rock ledge. “We’ll get your wife back.”

The civilian nods, letting go of the deputy. 

Evan makes his way over to Simone, Peaches forever at his feet.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Simone tells him, looking back to the crying civilian. “Her wife could be-” 

“I know,” Evan interrupts her. “But… hope is important, right? We’re in Hope fucking county, might as well  _ try _ to have some, right?” 

Simone nods, but it’s clear she’s unconvinced. Evan doesn’t even know if he is or not. 

They keep going up the path. 

They go up and up and up the mountain. Evan’s legs are burning, and even Peaches seems like she’s losing wind. 

But Simone just keeps going. When they reach yet another pit of burnt death - how fucking many people have been burned on this single mountain? - she pauses once again. 

“The kids were starving,” Simone repeats herself, staring into the charred dirt as it’ll relieve her of the burden of this story.

It takes Evan a second to realize she’s finishing the story. He wants to tell her to stop, but he senses that it means something different to her than it does to him. 

“So the Cook took his flamethrower, and torched the parents alive. In front of the kids. The parents screamed, loud enough for it to echo up to the heavens. And then, silence. The Cook vanished, like a demon in the night, leaving the kids alone. The only thing they had to remember their parents by was the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh.” Simone takes a shuddering breath, and looks at Evan with tears in her eyes. “I’ll never forget that smell,” She whispers. 

Evan says nothing, for what the fuck can he say? He just moves and wraps her in a hug. He remembers how Simone didn’t always like her parents, but they were good people. He feels Peaches wind her way around their legs as well, seemingly sensing the distress coming from the young huntress. 

Simone sniffs once, then extricates herself from the hug. “Thanks,” She murmurs. Evan can tell she genuinely means it. 

“Let’s keep going,” He suggests, knowing that she won’t want to linger on the subject. 

She nods once, and resumes trekking up the path. As they get closer to the top, they can hear another camp. 

Simone drags Evan up to another vantage point.

This has to be the Pit. 

“There’s the motherfucker,” Simone hisses, pointing to someone standing in the middle. 

The peggie she’s pointing at is wielding a flamethrower with the red gas tank on his back, shooting the flames at a huge pile of logs. 

There’s a line of hostages off to the side, all tied up and waiting to be thrown into the blaze. A few other peggies patrol the camp which consists of a few flimsy wooden structures meant for god knows what. 

Evan startles at a click to his left, but it’s only Simone. 

She’s lighting the end of an arrow on fire with a cheap drug store lighter. At Evan’s questioning gaze, she grins. “This is my chance to take that motherfucker out, and you bet your ass I’m using his own weapon against him.” 

Evan merely nods. He knows he can’t stop what’s going to happen, and what’s even worse is that he doesn’t know if he wants to. “I’ll cover you,” he says instead. 

It all happens so fast. 

Evan tells Peaches to go after a cultist pretty far from the camp, and Simone lets her arrow fly. 

It whistles through the air, sinking into the gas canister on the Cook’s back. Almost instantly, it explodes, ripping the Cook apart and sending shrapnel into anyone nearby. 

Evan’s firing right after that, taking advantage of the chaos. Simone’s working her way down to the camp, sending arrow after arrow into her unassuming targets. 

Evan’s quick to follow her, shooting at anyone who gets too close. 

He hears Peaches take down a peggie as well, immediately racing after another. 

Between the three of them, they make damn quick work of the camp. 

Evan goes to free the hostages as Simone stands near the wrecked corpse of the Cook, staring into the lingering flames. 

He goes over to her, slowly to not startle her. 

Simone looks up at him, and her eyes are so full of emotion that he takes a step back. 

“Marcel was right,” She murmurs. “Cook’s dead, and I feel nothing.” She looks over the edge of the mountain, at the scenery all around them. 

Only does Evan see just how high up the mountain they climbed. The view is incredible; practically the whole county is spread before them, alight in the darkening sky. 

“All I ever wanted was to find this guy, and now he’s gone and I… I don’t know to do.” Simone takes a deep breath, glancing at Evan with something close to a smile. “But I won’t forget what you did for me. You ever need me by your side, you let me know.”

“Thank you,” Evan says, pouring as much emotion into those two words as he can. He wishes he could help his friend who’s obviously going through a crisis, but he has no idea what he can do.  “What will you do now?” 

“The only thing that can be done. Fucking with the peggies as much as possible.” Simone’s grin grows into something a bit more mischievous. 

“A noble goal,” Evan replies, a small grin of his own growing ever so slightly. 

“I thought so. Let’s start walking back down, it’ll take a while. You can crash at my trailer if you want, it’s pretty close to where we are.”

“You are a godsend.” Evan is already dreading the walk back down, but that’s the  _ only _ way down the mountain. So he starts walking with Simone and Peaches. 

They walk in a companionable silence, listening to the sounds of nature around them. 

They make it about halfway down the mountain before Evan’s radio crackles to life, and it isn’t any of their friends. 

_ “Someone out there is pretending to be a soldier.”  _

Evan grows still at  _ his _ voice,  _ his _ voice that sounds all wrong, it’s too hard, too much like steel, not at all how it used to be-

_ “They are killing our brothers and sisters, and putting this Project in jeopardy. I want this coward to know that he has my attention.” _

Evan remembers when  _ his _ attention was all he ever wanted. Now that he has it, he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

_ “My hunters are coming for you. There’s nowhere you can run.” _

Simone raises an eyebrow at his radio. “He’s really pissed.”

“And you need to go,” Evan tells her, already on high alert. He grabs Peaches by the collar and shoves her to Simone. “Take care of her!” He doesn’t let Simone say anything back, he just takes off at a sprint back up the mountain. 

Maybe going  _ up _ wasn’t the best idea, but all he could think of was luring those damn hunters away from his friend and his cougar.

It doesn’t seem to do much, anyways. 

Evan runs until he collapses, until his lungs are screaming for oxygen and his legs are on fire, until he literally feels like he can’t take another step. 

He’s still for barely a moment before a new kind of pain erupts in his leg. Something forces him to stumble, and he falls to the ground before he can stop himself. 

Looking down, he sees an arrow protruding from the meat of his thigh. 

For a brief moment, he hysterically wonders if Simone shot him. 

Then someone with a red balaclava and long camouflage coat carrying a compound bow enters his pulsing vision, and he knows that it’s all over. 

He passes out as the peggie lifts him into a fireman’s hold and carries him towards an ATV where another peggie waits.


	13. all these years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler and Evan finally meet, broken face to broken face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning: literally no one has a good time in this chapter.

The first thing Evan registers when he regains consciousness is pain. A very specifc pain that stands out from the general ‘my body is fucking sore’ kinda pain, and originates in his leg. 

He remembers that he was shot with an arrow in his leg. That irritates him a good bit - there are other ways to gain someone’s attention than shooting them repeatedly! He has a radio, for fuck’s sake!

The second thing he registers is someone tying him to a chair. 

He forces his eyes open, and freezes. 

It’s Craig. Craig is the one tying him to this uncomfortable chair. Craig is alive, looking more than a little worse for wear, but alive. He has a gash on his cheek, a bruise spreading the expanse of his nose, and the bags under his eyes have bags of their own. But he’s alive. 

Evan tries to say something, tries to greet his friend, but his throat is so fucking dry. 

Craig doesn’t let him say anything anyway. He just looks up, meeting Evan’s gaze with eyes that have seen far too much. “You shouldn’t have come here,” He whispers, rushed and frantic, eyes constantly glancing behind Evan. “You should’ve run.” Craig finishes tying him to the chair, then backs up, into the shadows of the darkened room. 

Evan wants to ask why, but he can’t. 

Something close to him clicks, and then the room is lit up. 

It’s a small room, and Evan’s situated in the back. Next to him is a projector, like those old school ones used for… well, school. It’s projecting a too-bright image onto the far wall, large enough to take up most of the worn wooden paneling. 

The image is nauseating. It’s a deer carcass, and a rather old one at that. The fur is all matted, and the body’s been torn into by some sort of predator. 

The light of the projector allows Evan to see that there are two other people tied up in chairs, both of them in front of him, closer to the wall but separated from each other by a good five feet. 

Evan tests his bonds, but they’re tight. Too tight, the old leather - because of course it’s fucking leather - hurts his wrists and ankles. 

“You know, I’ve thought about what I would say to you, should I ever see you again.” 

Evan freezes.  _ His _ voice booms, loud enough to fill the entire room while still soft enough to coax you into a false sense of security. 

But  _ his  _ voice is also wrong. Evan had hoped that  _ his _ voice had sounded wrong because of the radio, but static cannot overlay the effects of years and years of hardships.  _ His _ voice is no longer carefree, but hardened, edged with steel and barbed wire, every word another landmine for your subconscious to step on if you don’t know exactly how to avoid it. 

“I could never decide what I would say to you,” He continues to talk, still lurking in the back of the room, in the shadows of the room, of Evan’s own mind. “I couldn’t decide if I would be angry, or vindictive, or even sad, or mourning.” 

Something moves in the corner of Evan’s vision, and then Tyler’s entering it, walking past Evan, facing the image of the deer carcass that’s still occupying the far wall. 

Maybe Evan’s hallucinating, but he’s pretty sure Tyler got taller since he last saw him. He wishes that was the only difference, but he can barely recognize the man standing before him. 

This Tyler moves with purpose. This Tyler’s every single move is calculated and careful, so as to not waste energy while still directing an aura of utter and complete control. His presence fills the entire room, settling in every crevice and corner, making Evan feel below him,  _ tiny _ compared to him.

“Eventually, I realized I should thank you.” Tyler speaks as if his words are a blessing to you, as if you should listen for no other reason than they will save your life. “You taught me what it means to be weak, and what it means to be strong.” 

Tyler turns around, and Evan’s struck with how… completely different he is. 

Beyond the years, Tyler’s aged. He’s aged as if he’s seen enough horrors to last him several lifetimes. He’s scarred, too. Scar tissue scores his cheeks, the bits of forearm exposed from the green military jacket that looks well worn. The scars look like they’re from burns. Chemical burns, maybe, if he was in the military. Evan sees what he thinks might be dog tags around his neck, backing up the military theory. 

Tyler also has a rabbit’s foot around his neck. He always was a little superstitious. 

What Evan hates most about This Tyler is his eyes. His eyes were always so goddamn blue, and they were always sparkling so bright it looked as if an entire galaxy was encased in them. 

This Tyler’s eyes are dull, the light extinguished by pain and suffering, by hardship after hardship, hit after hit. It doesn’t look like he’s ever gotten a break. 

Evan wants to cry, seeing This Tyler. 

Tyler, however, is stoic. A true soldier, his emotions are under wraps, then locked in a safe, then blown up with dynamite. He looks at Evan with no more emotion than he looks at the mud on his boots. 

“The world is weak,” Tyler says.

The projector clicks, a new image showing up. A wolf tearing into the neck of a deer. 

“You know our heroes used to be gods?” Tyler smirks, turning to face the wolf behind him. “Now our heroes are godless.” 

Another click. A wolf chewing on a bone. 

Something moves in the corner. It’s Craig, he’s now standing off to the side, hands clasped together in front of him, head down. 

Evan wants to go to him, to comfort his friend. 

Tyler turns back to his prisoners, still smirking as he had seen this happening all along. “Weak, feebled, diseased.” 

Click, a deer that looks closer to a skeleton, starvation thinning it to its bones.

“We let the weak dictate to the strong and we are shocked to find ourselves-” 

Click. A white wolf eating a deer, blood staining his muzzle, crimson the only color in the image. 

“Adrift.” Tyler gestures to the prisoner closest to him, the one on Evan’s left. “But history knows the value of sacrifice.” His fist clenches. “Of culling the herd so it stays strong.” 

Click. A wolf eating the leg of some animal, probably deer. 

“Over and over, the lives of the many outweighed the lives of the few, this is how we survived.” Tyler’s stepping closer to the other prisoners. They’re shaking in their own chair. 

Click. A brown wolf, muzzle covered in blood.

“But we’ve forgotten,” He points to the prisoner, he’s close enough for them to grab if they had a mind too.

Tyler steps away from them, over to Evan. He brings his hands together, fingertips connecting as if he’s deep in thought. “And now the bill has come due.” 

Another click, but Evan can’t see the image. It’s blocked by Tyler’s body; it’s the only thing in his direct line of vision. The dog tags glint in the low light as they knock against the rabbit’s foot and his chest. 

Tyler leans down, resting his hands on Evan’s wrists, pressing down with just enough force to be uncomfortable. He leans in close, so all Evan can see is him, all he can smell is him, everything is just him, him, him. 

It’s as painful as is familiar, comforting. 

“Now the collapse is upon us, and this time the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many.” Tyler’s voice is quieter, but no less difficult to hear. 

Evan barely restrains himself from craning forward, just to ensure he catches every word, greedily wanting them for himself. But he’s in no place to want such a thing, not anymore. Not after what he’s done, not after what everyone is still counting on him to do in the future. 

Click. The image is still concealed, but the light, shining on only half of Tyler’s face, bathes him in a scarlet red light. Evan’s glad he can’t see the full image.

“And when a nation that’s never known hunger or desperation descends into madness, we’ll be ready,” Tyler promises. 

Evan wants him to be promising different things.

“We will cull the herd.” Tyler stands up, leaving Evan’s space yet not, for his presence is ever there. He grabs something from on top of the projector, something small in his large hands. It’s a little wooden box, with a crank sticking out one side. 

Tyler winds it, twisting the box around it. “We will do what needs to be done,” He says. 

Evan thinks he knows just exactly what Tyler’s holding, and he really,  _ really _ hopes he’s wrong. Tears prick the edge of his vision, memories of everything he holds dear washing up against the crumbling dam in his mind. 

“I’m sorry,” He croaks, succeeding against his burning throat for those two little words that he knows can never be enough. 

Tyler stills, caught off guard. He covers it quickly, face clearing of every emotion except anger. 

Evan waits for him to make the next move. He stares at the wooden box, feeling the tears escape and run down his cheek. He knows now, what wooden box that is. He recognizes the chip in the corner, recognizes the gold crank to it. The song it plays when the crank is turned and the lid is opened.

Tyler’s hand clenches around it so hard, Evan imagines he can hear the wood splintering. 

“Thompson, get them  _ out, _ ” Tyler commands.

Evan doesn’t take his eyes off the wooden box, nor does Tyler take his eyes off Evan. 

They both listen as Craig hesitates for the smallest of seconds before obeying, getting the prisoners out of the room one by one. He lingers in the doorway, unsure of where to put them. 

“What-” 

“ _ Out!”  _ Tyler barks, losing patience quickly. He storms over to the door, slamming it shut so hard that the frame rattles and Evan can feel it in his bones. 

Tyler walks back over to Evan, hands clenched and movements barely controlled. When he reaches the only prisoner left, he stands too close, but at the same time, not close enough. 

Evan drops his gaze to Tyler’s boots. He doesn’t deserve to look at anything else. 

“What the fuck,” Tyler says slowly. “Did you just say.” 

It takes a herculean effort, but Evan manages to whisper, “I’m sorry.” 

Tyler says nothing. He’s silent, and that’s what hurts the worst. 

There’s so much tension in the room, it’s almost crackling in the air like little bits of lightning. 

“Sorry?” Tyler repeats, disbelief ugly in his tone. “You’re fucking sorry?” He raises one hand to Evan’s chin, forcing him to look up. 

Evan winces, but lets his gaze be dragged up, meeting the Soldier’s eyes. They’re glittering again, but not in the way he had wanted. It’s pure rage swirling in that deadly blue hue. His control’s fractured, and that’s terrifying.

“Damn near twenty fucking years later, and you’re  _ sorry _ ?” Tyler’s grip tightens on Evan’s jaw, to the point where it’ll bruise, where he feels like his jaw is going to be snapped off in a second. 

Then Tyler releases him, breathing labored and hands shaking. “You have no right!” He shouts, burying his hands in his hair. “God  _ fucking _ Christ, you can’t just fucking do this!” 

“What am I doing?” Evan cries, because he honestly doesn’t know. 

“Twenty fucking years of nothing, absolutely nothing! No calls, no messages of any kind! You just left everyone you care about behind, like it was fucking  _ nothing  _ to you, like you didn’t have people who cared about you! Like you didn’t have people who loved you.” Tyler’s voice cracks as his eyes water. He hasn’t cried in two decades. He’s not sure he knows how. 

Evan definitely knows how to cry. He’s doing it right now. A lot. Because he hasn’t dealt with this, he hasn’t dealt with the consequences of his fucking actions. And he was fine with that - well, not really, he felt guilty all the damn time, but it wasn’t… this. 

It wasn’t facing a well of emotions that haven’t been acknowledged in twenty years. It wasn’t facing the person he loved, watching as their wall crumbles before his eyes and all that’s left is pure suffering.

“You left without a word to anyone,” Tyler reminds him, as if Evan hasn’t thought about what he did for the last two decades.

“What do you want from me?” Evan wants to make this situation better, but he can’t. He wants to smooth everything over, but he can’t. 

“Why? Why did you do it?” Tyler’s voice softens, his anger deflating into something more… broken. 

And that’s the real question, isn’t it. Why did Evan do what he did. Why did he leave his entire world behind, telling only his mother what he was doing. 

For a while, he told himself that leaving would make everything better. That lie worked, if only for a short time. With the passage of time comes truth, namely the real reason behind why Evan chose to hurt the people he loved most. 

“I was scared,” He admits, the confession tearing itself free after two decades of swallowing it down. It hurts, hurts to say it, burns his throat, sits heavy on his shoulders.

Tyler lets out an indignant huff. He collapses onto the floor, the weight of all these years finally catching up to him. He sits, all the grace and control gone in an instant. Even sitting, he’s still tall enough to intimidate, though Evan’s sitting in a chair and he’s on the floor. 

“Scared of what?” Tyler persists. He deserves the whole truth, if nothing else. 

Evan swallows, the motion just making the soreness worse. “Remember how we’d talk about when we were both eighteen, we’d get an apartment or something?”

“And take my brothers away from my parents,” Tyler finishes. He remembers very clearly, the dream he used to have. But that’s all it was. A dream. 

“I was scared I wouldn’t be enough,” Evan says, though that feels wrong. That wasn’t what terrified him, that wasn’t what made him leave all of that behind. “I was scared of the commitment,” He amends, and there, that feels worse, that feels much worse to admit, so it must be the truth. 

Only now does Evan realize just how pathetic he is. 

Tyler must realize it too, if the way he stands is any indication. The way he’s pacing now, back and forth, back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching with disbelieving anger. “You were scared? You were fucking  _ scared _ ? Did you not think I was terrified the day I realized I would have three little brothers to take care because my parents were worthless pieces of shit? Did you not think I was fucking scared?”

Evan winces, because Tyler’s shouting, and Tyler very rarely ever shouted.

“You’re fucking worthless,” Tyler  _ seethes _ , anger mutating from loud and volatile to quiet, reserved, dangerous. “Fucking weak. If it weren’t for Ohm, I would put you down like the goddamn sad piece of shit you are.” 

And that hurts than just about anything else. Sure, they’re words of fury, unbridled rage making him spit things, but there’s just enough truth for those words to cut deep into Evan, for them to burn, for them to be the salt in the wounds that makes him just give up. 

Evan’s giving up. He sinks further into the seat, eyes on the floor, head down. 

Tyler takes a deep breath. He walks back over to Evan, back to the projector still showing some fucking wolf image. He picks the wooden box back up, making sure it’s wound. 

He holds it out in Evan’s field of vision, drawing his attention to it. 

Evan looks up. Tyler’s face is completely unreadable; even the anger that Evan  _ knows _ is lingering underneath the surface is gone. 

Tyler opens the wooden box. The music box. 

The first few notes of the song, of their song, float from the little contraption. In Evan’s mind, the words echo with it. 

_ Only…. you... _

Everything goes red, red,  _ red, RED. _

 

Evan opens his eyes, which hurts. 

He’s still in the same room, but he’s also not. 

Everything is just… red. His vision is pulsing with it, the room is lit by it, it even feels warm with it. Scarlet, pure scarlet, all around him. 

He’s not tied to the chair anymore. He’s not in the same place he was, beside a projector on a stand. 

He’s behind the table. The projector is gone, but the face of a wolf is still on the far wall. On the left side of it is the word ONLY, painted in crimson. On the other side of the wall is YOU.

 The two other prisoners are back in the room. They’re slowly standing up. 

The song is echoing all around them, along with a voice, whispering in Evan’s ears. 

_ Train,  _ it says.  _ Train, hunt, kill,  _ sacrifice.

There’s a pistol on the table. Evan doesn’t grab it, he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. 

The other two prisoners stand up. Their faces are blank, but they move with purpose. 

The one on Evan’s right grabs the pistol, and shoots the other one point blank. They turn to Evan and fire without a second thought. 

Evan’s barely aware he’s been shot until everything disappears in a puff of smoke. 

When it clears, he’s back where he started. 

The room, the whispering, the song, the prisoners in their chairs. 

This time, the one on the left gets the pistol. They shoot the right, then Evan. 

_ PATHETIC _ . 

Evan winces at Tyler’s voice, sounding as if he’s talking from all around him. He doesn’t want to be pathetic anymore. He wants to be better than that. He will be better than that. 

He gets reset again. This time, he grabs the pistol. He shoots both prisoners. They’re faces aren’t even there, just blurred messes. It’s easier that way. 

They die in puffs of black smoke. There’s no body, no blood, no nothing. Just some smoke, and then they’re gone.

_ GOOD _ , this omnipresent Tyler praises him. 

Evan shouldn’t feel good about it. He should only feel horror. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he does. He feels horrified at what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t even know where he is. 

But everything’s muted by this inexplicable urge to listen to Tyler’s voice in the broken sky. 

It’s more difficult to fight it.

Evan moves on. 

He enters a short hallway, with nothing but a couple weapon crates and a doorway with no door. 

The top crate is open, and on top lays an SMG. Evan doesn’t usually prefer SMG’s, but he doesn’t have a choice. 

He grabs it, and enters the next room. 

It looks like a small house that got torn up a tornado. The ceiling is missing entirely; the sky is just an angry, swirling chaos of debris and  _ red _ . 

There’s more people in this room. One’s on the stairwell that leads to nothing, one’s underneath it, one’s near the exit to the next room. 

Evan hears one of them shout “TRAIN, HUNT, KILL, SACRIFICE,” chanting it over and over. He makes sure to take that one out as quick as possible.

He clears the room, shooting these faceless enemies with no care. He just has an urge, a  _ need _ to survive this… ordeal. 

_ YES, SACRIFICE THE WEAK _ .

The next hallway has a turn. The wall facing Evan is covered with another image of wolf, projecting from nowhere and staring deep into Evan’s eyes. 

He turns down the hallway, and sees more of those weapon crates. Leaning against them is a shotgun. He takes it, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. 

The next room isn’t exactly a room. It’s a maze. 

The word TRAIN is painted on the first wall, in that paint that looks to crimson to just be paint. 

Evan ignores it, traversing the maze with caution. He takes a turn, and there’s an enemy. Another turn, nothing. One more, an enemy, and then he’s back to where he started.

_ MIND YOUR TIME. _

Evan grits his teeth, and keeps pushing. One more enemy down in a puff of smoke, and he’s found the exit to this fucking maze. 

Another hallway, another weapon. This time, an assault rifle.

The next obstacle is a courtyard directly outside a tall building. There’s an empty fountain, a truck with no wheels, cement dividers set up as barriers, a wrought iron fence surrounding it. 

The angry red sky illuminates the courtyard in a haze of scarlet. 

Evan clears the few enemies there, hiding behind one of the cement dividers as cover.

_ GOOD, CULL THE HERD _ . 

The next hallway features another SMG. 

The next obstacle is another broken house type structure. There’s two raised platforms accessible only by broken stairwells. 

Evan climbs one of them, firing at the enemy who almost caught him off guard. He hoists himself onto the next platform, knocking the enemy down and sweeping them off the platform entirely. They thump the ground, replaced by a puff of smoke that rises up and up, meeting the scarlet sky with grace. 

The next enemy is downed fairly quickly, the room cleared now. 

_ KEEP GOING. _

The way to the next room is a platform that opens to a slide. A fucking slide made of broken slabs of concrete, boxed in with more red and debris. 

Evan slides down it, mindful of his clothes snagging on anything. They don’t get the chance. 

The second he’s free-falling, everything crashes to a halt. 

The whisperings cut off, the song stops, the red is replaced with black. 

There’s nothing. Calm, peaceful nothing.

 

He awakes to the shuffling of feet and muted whispers. 

He cracks an eye open, and even that hurts. The scene before him isn’t helping much; there are a few people walking around, but they’re sideways. It looks like they’re walking on the wall. 

It takes Evan far too long to realize he’s lying on the floor. His chair was tipped over, roughly if the soreness on the left side of his body is anything to go by. 

The song is still playing. It sounds more like background music to Evan now, something that’s just always been there. 

One of the people, the one standing in the front, gestures to the general area Evan’s in. “Simone, help me check the chairs.” 

Simone? Evan knows a Simone. He really hopes its the same one. He could use a friendly face right about now. 

“Are you sure he’s in here?” Yeah, that definitely sounds like Simone. 

“Just check the chairs. Walker, get some windows open. Someone shut that fucking music off!” 

The person Evan thinks is Simone goes over to the other two bodies, checking each of them briefly. They go over to Evan, crouching down to check his breathing. 

It is Simone. Her face  floods his vision, and he’s never been happier to see her. He groans, enough to let her know he’s definitely alive.

“Help me with this,” She demands, gesturing to the leader. 

The leader comes over, and Evan recognizes her by her silver hair and blue eyes. 

Together, Simone and Kelly lift him up off the ground. 

“Walker, go get the truck,” Kelly tells the third person as she takes out a knife. 

Evan winces at the weapon, only to realize she’s going to cut his bonds. He had forgotten they were even there. 

“Tyler must’ve taken a shine to you, same as us,” Kelly tells him, slicing away the leather with ease. “You’re gonna be okay, hero, Whitetail’s got ya.” 

Evan tries to say his thanks, but  _ fuck _ his throat is dry and sore and burning. He goes to stand, only his body to give out on him the second he’s off the chair. 

Simone and Kelly catch him though, steadfast against his trembling body. They each hoist him up, and carry him out of the terrible room. 

“We’re bringing him back to the Wolf’s Den?” Simone questions, struggling to sidestep the various bodies all over the floor. 

“Where else?”

“Your Lanai isn’t going to like this.” 

“Don’t worry about Lanai, she’ll be fine.” 

They put Evan in the bed of a pickup truck, on a blanket. His head’s barely touched the plastic of the bed before he’s out for the count.

 

This time, Evan awakes to silence. 

Well, not silence, but it’s quiet. He can hear some hushed conversations, maybe some static from a radio. Music that’s definitely not Eden’s Gate-approved.

He shifts, and feels whatever he’s on shift underneath him. It’s comfy. He’s comfy. 

He opens his eyes, because comfort cannot last forever. 

He’s on a fucking couch. In front of a TV that most likely doesn’t work. 

Simone’s sitting on a chair next to the TV. She notices Evan’s up, and immediately goes to give him a drink from a canteen. 

Evan greedily gulps down the water until he feels like he might throw up. He takes deep breaths to avoid that, taking this time to look at his surroundings. 

“We’re in the Wolf’s Den,” Simone quietly tells him. “Bunker somewhere in the mountains, home of the Whitetail militia.” 

“Home sweet home,” Evan manges to say. The room they’re in is small, with a tiny kitchen on the far wall and a couple doors leading to various places. 

Kelly is in the room as well, at the kitchen fixing something. She turns at the voices, holding a plate of steaming something. 

Evan’s stomach growls loudly as if to assert its dominance. 

Kelly chuckles, bringing the plate over with a fork. She gives it to Evan, saying, “It’s just powdered eggs, but you need something to eat. Just go slow, alright?” 

Evan nods, already digging in. He makes himself chew carefully though, really not wanting to vomit it right back up. 

Just as he’s on his third bite, another woman storms into the room. She has long dark hair and she looks very upset. 

She looks at Evan once, then glares at Kelly. “Are you outta your fucking mind?” She demands. 

Kelly raises her hands. “Now, wait a minute, Simone and I agreed-” 

“You agreed?” The new woman whirls onto Simone, pointing at her. She’s wearing gloves that are definitely stained with blood. 

“Woah, I was at best an impartial observer,” Simone states plainly. 

“This is stupid and this is dangerous,” The new woman tells Kelly. She gestures wildly with her bloodstained-gloved hands. “You both know better!” 

“What was I supposed to do?” Kelly asks. 

“Leave ‘em to die!” She says it like it’s the obvious answer. 

Evan just looks to his eggs. He decides to keep eating them, not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn’t make the situation worse. 

“Lanai,” Kelly chides. 

Oh. So this is Lanai.

“They’ve been in that room for God knows how long-” 

“Four days, actually,” Simone tells her. 

“I’ve seen what it does to people,” Lanai continues. “You haven’t. You can’t trust this one.” 

Kelly scoffs and crosses her arms. “That’s what people said about you. But luckily, I didn’t listen.” 

Lanai goes to counter that, but Kelly raises her hand, cutting her off. 

“We need him,” The silver-haired woman states, voice firm. “End of discussion.” 

Lanai looks like she either wants to yell or punch Evan in the face. He’s glad she chooses to storm out the room, leaving awkward tension in her place. 

It’s quiet for a few moments.

“You’re right, she took that well,” Simone remarks.

Kelly shoots the huntress a light glare, then goes over to Evan. She takes his now-empty plate from him, patting him on the shoulder. “I meant what I said,” She tells him softly. “We need you. But right now, you should get some more rest, Lord knows you probably need it.” 

Evan can’t agree more. So after he takes another drink from Simone, he lays back down on the comfortable couch, and passes out once again. 

His dreams are accompanied with a certain song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter was pretty heavy, i'm gonna try and make the next one light-hearted and soft. I think Evan deserves a break right about now.


	14. a nice respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, some wholesome friendships, some good food composes Evan's day off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an extra long chapter, just for y'all

When Evan wakes up, he’s not on the couch any longer. He’s upright, or as upright as an unconscious person could be. 

He cracks his eyes open, and sees the world moving by him way too fast. 

He’s in a truck. Being driven by Simone, who’s driving like she’s attempting to outrace a cheetah. 

“I’m gonna give you a ticket,” Evan mumbles, placing his hands on the seat to brace himself as he sits up a bit more. His head was at a weird angle, and now his neck is stiff. 

And his body hurts, and he has a headache. He wonders if he will ever not be in pain again.

Simone hisses, jerking the wheel ever so slightly. “Jesus, you scared me.” She takes a deep breath, and slows down a little. “There’s water in the glovebox, and I think Lanai put some painkillers there too.” 

“Thought she hated me.” Evan takes the water, and to his delight, the painkillers as well. It’s just over-the-counter stuff, but he’ll take what he can get. 

“Lanai doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t trust you. But Kelly got her to take a look at your wounds and shit.” 

“Wounds?” Evan doesn’t really remember being hurt. 

“The arrow through the leg thing. And your ankles and wrists.” 

Looking again, Evan sees white bandages around his wrists. He can feel the same on his ankles.

Everything from yesterday comes flooding back. The leather binds, Tyler, that… trial, that had to be the Trials everyone talks about, feeling Tyler rip his heart into pieces.

“Evan, breathe. You’re safe now, you’re out of the Whitetails.” 

He looks out the window, breathing labored and eyes burning. He sees a sign signaling that Fall’s End is only five miles away. How long has he been asleep?

“How did you get me out of the Whitetail bunker?” He asks, because he has to focus on anything other than what he went through. He thinks the Whitetails call their home base something special. Den, something, right? Something about a den.

“You don’t remember?” Simone shoots a glance at him. “I woke you up and you walked. Fell right back asleep like two minutes after I started driving.” 

“Oh.” Evan sinks back into his seat, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. “Fall’s End?” 

“We’re just passing through it. I’m taking you to Brock’s, I figured you could use a quick rest from all that nonsense up in the mountains.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I radioed ahead too, so he won’t try and shoot us when we just roll up to his house.” 

“What about Nogla and Brian?” Evan wants to see his friends, even if he has absolutely no energy for the two of them and their antics. “Oh my God, where’s Peaches?” 

“She’s in the bed, calm down.” 

Evan looks through the rear view mirror, and sure enough, there’s his favorite cougar, just chilling in the bed of the pick up truck. As cute as it is, it’s also concerning. “What if she jumps out?” 

“She won’t,” is Simone’s response.

Too tired to question her confidence, Evan just accepts it. 

It’s quiet the rest of the very short drive is quiet, and then before Evan knows it, they’re pulling up the back way to Brock’s house. 

The main route leads to the airway and office used for his aviation business, while the back way leads directly to their house. The Barrus’ only show the back way to their close friends. 

Brock’s waiting on the porch for them, smile wide but eyes revealing obvious concern. 

Evan steps out the truck and immediately goes to his friend, accepting the offered hug gratefully. 

He hears Simone and Peaches step up behind them, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He just focuses on Brock’s warm embrace, telling himself over and over that he’s  _ safe _ . 

“You’re okay now,” Brock murmurs, as if he can hear Evan’s internal monologue and wants to help. “Everything’s all good, man.” 

Evan takes a deep breath, stabilizing himself against the world once more, and pulls away. 

Brock greets Simone with a hug as well, though not nearly as long. “How’ve you been, Simone?” 

“Up and down,” She answers noncommittally. “Killed the Cook, though.” 

As she’s talking, Brock crouches down to pet Peaches. “Congratulations on that, I know you’ve been after him for a while.” 

“Thanks, the bastard deserved it.” Simone looks around at the scenery around them, then turns to Evan. “If it’s cool with you, I was gonna go see Marcel and Scotty. Haven’t checked with them in a while, I was maybe gonna spend the day with them.” 

Not wanting to tie her down in any capacity, Evan finds himself nodding before he even fully understanding what she’s asking. “Of course, yeah.” 

Simone smiles one of her rare yet warm smiles. “Cool, I’ll be back in a few hours or so. Radio me if you need anything, you know the deal.” She’s off before they can say anything else, back in the truck and speeding away. 

Evan turns to Brock, furrowing his brows. “Did I miss something?” 

“They’re just friends, Ev. Well, Marcel and Scotty are definitely not just friends, but you get what I mean.” 

“Right.” 

“Have you eaten yet?” Brock asks suddenly. “Do you want some breakfast?” 

Evan goes to say no - he doesn’t feel like he can really eat anything at all - but his stomach answers for him, growling rather loudly. Too tired to care, Evan just nods. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.” 

Brock takes Evan’s arm, leading him inside the house. 

It’s changed a little since the last time he was here - days? Weeks? How long has he been back in Hope county? 

Time hardly ever feels real here. It’s just day after day with no real meaning. The sun rises, the sun sets, night comes, night goes, but it has no meaning. 

“Hiya, dear,” Lauren greets them from the living room where she’s currently surrounded by a mess of pieces of wood and screws. It looks like she’s either trying to build a crib or a bomb shelter. She stands, and freezes upon seeing the cougar standing just outside the door. She looks at her husband, who shrugs. 

“I hope that’s Peaches,” Lauren says. 

“The one and only,” Brock answers. “Isn’t she… purr-fect?” He asks, eyebrows raised and smile wide. 

Lauren and Evan both groan at his pun. 

“You’re taking the dad jokes way too seriously,” Lauren tells her husband. 

“It’s paw-ssible, but I don’t think so.” 

Lauren turns to Evan, fully ignoring Brock now. “As long as she doesn’t… destroy anything, she’s free to come inside.”

Evan shuffles past the two of them, leading Peaches into the house to escape any more puns. He’s grateful that he doesn’t have to leave Peaches outside, although to be honest he never even considered that she would destroy anything. She’s just a cat. A big one, sure, but a cat nonetheless.

Brock nudges him a little with his shoulder. “What would you like to eat?” 

“You haven’t had breakfast yet?” Lauren asks, making her way over to them. 

Evan shakes his head, already feeling the wrath of her mom-ness building. “Just some eggs would be fine,” He tries to keep it simple, he doesn’t really want to test the limits of his appetite.

“We’ll get it ready for you, honey, why don’t you go sit down in the living room?” Lauren ushers him away from the door and through the kitchen. 

Evan makes his way to the room of the living, side-stepping the mess of crib-parts to get to the couch. He sits in the same spot he sat that night they had a “family” dinner, what feels like forever ago. 

He smiles at the memory. He was so happy then, surrounded by his friends. He was safe with them, protected. 

He startles as Peaches jumps onto the couch next to him. He watches her carefully, making sure she doesn’t tear into the upholstery as she turns in little circles, then settles down, half on his lap and half on the rest of the couch. 

Not wanting to think about anything more, Evan focuses on Peaches. He idly pets her, listening to her purring that reminds him of a lawn mower. He watches her duo-colored eyes scan the living room. He listens to the tag on her pinch collar jingling against the metal. 

Eventually, he falls into a haze. No thought enters, no thought leaves. Evan’s just existing, there on the couch with Peaches on his lap. 

It can’t last forever though, because soon he’s being called for breakfast even though it’s pretty much lunch time. 

The table’s already set, drinks are poured, and the food is ready. 

Evan sits at the end, with Brock and Lauren on either side of him. A plate of scrambled eggs, a couple pieces of toast, bacon, and some fruit is placed in front of him. A cup of coffee and a glass of water are also there. 

“You don’t have to eat it all,” Lauren tells him as she sits down to her own food. “But I didn’t want you to just eat eggs, you know?” 

“Thank you,” Evan tells her, as sincerely as he can. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“You’re our friend, we’re here for when you need it,” Brock tells him. “Now eat up, or it’s gonna get cold.” 

Not to bash Kelly and her powdered eggs, but Lauren’s scrambled eggs are so much better. Seasoned and cooked to perfection. Once Evan takes a first bite, his appetite seems to return to normal and suddenly he’s starving. 

He finishes his food first, making sure to save some scraps for Peaches. She seems to like the eggs too, but not the fruit. The bacon’s definitely her favorite though.

Once everyone’s done eating, Evan helps Brock clean up while Lauren goes back to assembling the crib with Peaches’ help. 

The two men chuckle as Peaches’ help means that she’s lying on top of whatever tool Lauren needs. 

“Real handy, your Peaches,” Brock observes, watching his wife try and swat the cougar’s tail away from some delicately-piled screws. 

“If you need help fixing shit, she’s the one for you,” Evan puts on his best salesman voice, gesturing to the scene before them. “Need a tool? Peaches has got it covered. Need someone mauled? She can do that too! Let me tell you, this bad girl can fit so many peggies in her belly!” 

Brock bursts out laughing, clutching the counter behind him as he laughs that iconic laugh.

Evan joins in too, chuckling at his own joke and his friend’s laughter. His joke wasn’t that funny, he gets that, but damn if it doesn’t feel like it’s been centuries since he’s had a proper laugh. 

Eventually, Peaches comes over to them, concerned about all the excitement. She bashes her head against Evan’s knees and chirps because if the attention isn’t on her, then something’s wrong. 

Evan sits on the ground, both to pet the cougar and also to stabilize himself a bit. He’s still a bit giddy with laughter, and Brock still giggles randomly, but for the most part, they’ve calmed down. 

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Evan asks, because he still hasn’t figured that out. He’s figured out that Brock is pretty much babysitting him, but other than that, he doesn’t really know what’s going on. 

“I figured we could go fishing, catch dinner for tonight.” Brock cocks his head, concern peeking through his smile. “Is it cool if the others come over for dinner? If not, that’s okay, you don’t have to put up with them.” 

Evan mulls it over. Ponders if he’s willing to deal with a large group of people if said group is composed of the people he cares most about. 

He thinks back to the other family dinner they had. Of how much fun, of how comforting that was. Being surrounded by people he loves, and who love him. 

Maybe that’s just what he needs. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Evan answers honestly. 

Brock beams at that. “Great, so we just need to catch enough fish to feed like fifteen people! Easy.”

 

And that’s how the two friends find themselves at a dock on the river towards the edge of Brock’s property. 

It’s pretty well-hidden within some trees, so hopefully intruders won’t be a problem. Nonetheless, Evan brings his shotgun, and Brock his rifle. 

As well as three fishing poles, two large coolers, one small cooler - filled with water bottles and a couple sandwiches for lunch - and a bucket of worms. 

Lauren had also made sure they brought sunscreen - Brock uses it, Evan doesn’t. He doesn’t like the oily feeling, it’s awful. 

So he makes sure to wear the hat Lauren gave him instead, a baseball cap advertising the F.A.N.G center. 

As soon as they get down to the river, Peaches goes barreling into the water. She splashes around and chases the fish away, having the time of her life. 

“Sorry,” Evan apologizes on her behalf. 

Brock just smiles and shakes his head. “It’s no worry, besides, she’s having fun.”

The two of them start unloading everything, preparing for when the fish come back. They fill the big coolers with some water, prep the poles, all that jazz. 

Evan plops down on the dock, ignoring how the wood creaks beneath him and the brief thought that he might get splinters in his ass. 

Brock lays down a towel to sit on, ‘cause he’s smart like that. 

It takes a good few minutes, but eventually Peaches tires herself out. She drags her sopping wet self out of the river and onto the dock, making sure she’s standing in between the two men before shaking violently, spraying them both with river water. 

Some of it gets in Evan’s eye, and some of it gets in Brock’s mouth, but neither of them can be mad as Peaches flops onto her side in the sun, sighing as a breeze flows over them. 

Evan pats her side a couple times as Brock casts his line out. He sets the pole down between his thighs so he can get himself a bottle of water. 

When he’s done petting the still very wet Peaches - resisting the urge to make a pussy joke, he can’t be sure Brock would appreciate it - Evan casts his line as well, in the opposite direction of Brock’s which doesn’t really matter when the current comes into play but whatever. 

Time seems to stand still, there on the dock. Much like it had in the living room, it seems to cease to exist altogether. Evan’s back to merely existing, simply a bundle of atoms, sitting on top of another bundle of atoms. 

Evan leans back on his hands, keeping an eye on his pole while simultaneously letting himself float. 

He feels the warmth of the sun as it hits his torso, his legs. He feels the occasional breeze lightly sweep over him, whispering things into his ear, calming the world around him. He feels Peaches move a bit so her foot is against his knee, barely touching him but there. 

He listens to the river bubble and lightly churn around them all. He listens to Brock lightly hum a tune he doesn’t recognize but one he likes all the same. 

He feels at peace. 

He knows it can’t last forever, but he isn’t thinking about forever right now.

Something tugs on his pole, nearly yanking it from between his legs with how out of it he was. 

Evan springs back into life, grabbing his pole and yanking it hard. He’s definitely got something on the line. 

He reels it in, carefully to not break the line. It takes a good few moments, but eventually, he’s holding pulling a trout out of the water. Peaches tries to eat it, but Evan holds her back while Brock gets the fish into the cooler. 

“And there we have it, ladies and gents,” Evan says, letting Peaches go so he can place his hands on his hips. “I’m officially the most amazing fisher-guy ever!” 

Brock gives him a begrudged smile. “That’s only one. We need a lot more.”

Evan looks at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “And suddenly my time is up, I have to go.” He doesn’t go, though. He just sits back down, and recasts his line. 

A couple moments of silence go by. Evan tries to return to that floating headspace, but it seems the magic has passed. He got too excited over having caught something, but that’s okay. 

It’s still nice being out here. 

Brock notices Evan’s good mood. He also knows that Evan’s moods can fluctuate very quickly. 

“I know you probably don’t,” Brock begins, already regretting speaking in the first place but he can’t back down now. “But if you wanna talk about… anything, I’m here for you.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Evan snaps, much harsher than he meant to. He sees his friend wince, and that just makes him feel worse. “Sorry, I-” 

“You don’t have to apologize, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

Evan turns around now, because he knows when Brock tries to place all the blame on himself. “I do have to apologize, that wasn’t cool of me. I’m sorry, I- I know you’re just trying to help.”

Brock offers a smile, and reaches over to place his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “I’m here for you, man. I’m always gonna be here for you.” 

“I love you,” Evan murmurs. He can’t remember the last time he told someone that and truly meant it like he means now. 

He certainly didn’t tell his city-friends that. They could never compare to the friends Evan made here, in Hope county. His friends here were truly remarkable people. 

“I love you too,” Brock tells him, squeezing Evan’s shoulder lightly before returning his hand to his fishing pole. 

Evan goes back to fishing as well - dinner isn’t going to catch itself, after all - but he suddenly can’t focus on much of anything other than one person. 

“Everyone expects me to kill him,” Evan murmurs. He doesn’t really mean to say it, he barely notices that he does, but he can’t take it back. 

“Not everyone,” Brock tries.

“Why?” Evan turns back around, fully ignoring his pole and uncast line.

His friend shifts on the dock, eyes on the river. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Brock.” 

“Yeah?” Trying to evade the topic he just opened up. 

“Why don’t people expect me to kill him?” Evan doesn’t know why he’s pressing this, but he just has to know why some people see another option for him to take besides more violence.

“You aren’t a killer,” Brock finally answers, but he keeps shifting his legs, bending them at various levels, never staying still for more than a few seconds. 

While Evan knows that answer was a valid one - before he got to the county, before he killed countless peggies, maybe - he  _ wasn’t _ a killer. Maybe he isn’t a born killer. He’s never wished such violence against anyone, but how long can you use the excuse of “self-defense” when you’ve killed so goddamn many people? 

“Brock,” Evan insists, because there’s something else his friend isn’t telling him. 

“We were all their friends too,” Brock says, slumping his shoulders. “You loved them most, but we all cared for them too. I still do, Ev. I still care about them. You do too, I can see it.” 

Evan says nothing. He just turns around, and casts his line. They’re out here on the docks for a reason. They need to catch fish, which Evan can do. 

Another silence falls over the two men, but this one is far less comfortable. Evan’s lost in his head, swirling in thoughts he’d rather not think. 

Does he still care for them?

Can he still care for someone who hurts people? Kills them in the of God, in the name of preparing for the supposed Collapse? Does he want to care for someone like that? 

Could he even stop himself from caring? 

The hours go by, agonizingly slowly. 

With robotic movements, Evan manages to catch another three fish. Brock catches three as well, keeping to himself as well. Neither of them says another word.

Peaches goes for one last dip in the river, and then they head back home. 

When they arrive at the house, more people are already there. 

Brian and Nogla are helping Lauren out in the kitchen, while Joe and Tony play with each other in the living room that’s been cleared of the crib-building chaos. 

Brock goes to deliver the fish to the kitchen as Evan very carefully introduces Peaches to the two dogs. 

They all sniff each other carefully, keeping a safe distance at first until Joe paws at Peaches, inviting her to play. 

Evan stays to watch for a few moments, making sure his cougar won’t eat the two dogs before heading to the kitchen to help. 

He ends up helping Nogla peel potatoes. Brian was doing that instead, but Brian also knows how to gut and clean fish, so he goes to help Brock do that. 

Evan keeps his own thoughts at bay as he listens to Nogla go on about the town, about how the Resistance are starting to do some shit on their own - thank god, Evan doesn’t feel like leading the fray on that anymore. 

Apparently, they’ve managed to take back a couple small farms from the peggies, so more fresh food is going around. 

Then Lauren smacks Nogla with a spatula, scolding him for “talking shop in the house.” 

“Sorry, ma’am,” Nogla murmurs, shying away from the woman which looks a bit hilarious when he’s damn near tall enough to touch the low ceiling of the house. 

But then again, Lauren is pretty intimidating. Evan does what he can to avoid being hit with the spatula. 

About half an hour later, Marcel, Scotty, and Simone pull up the house,  with Simone driving through the air strip on a single ATV that looks like it’s about to tip over if the breeze picks up too much. 

Brock sees them first, having been prepping the grill for the fish. He narrows his eyes at them as they pull up next to the other vehicles. 

Before Simone even stops the ATV, Marcel and Scotty hop off, laughing and smiling. 

“Those aren’t meant for three people,” Brock tells him, pointing the brush he was using to clean the grill at the offending vehicle. 

“Lighten up, Brocky!” Scotty says, holding up  a finger. “We have a surprise!” 

Marcel goes behind the ATV, and cuts off a box that had been tied to it with bright blue rope. He holds the box up with both hands, very loudly and very poorly singing the intro song to The Lion King.

“We brought beer!” Simone says once he’s done singing, hopping off the ATV with a flourish. “And it wasn’t even stolen, aren’t you proud of us?” 

Brock stares at the three of them. “Go bring it inside,” He says, jerking his head to the house with a small grin. 

The three of them enter the house, announcing their arrival with more shouting.

Evan finds himself grinning, happy to see his friends. He’s really glad they’re doing this, even if he’s stuck peeling a thousand million pounds of potatoes. 

He feels better when Lauren puts the other three to work as well, chopping various veggies and preparing the fish and everything else. 

About five minutes pass, and then someone else is pulling up to the house on a very loud vehicle. 

“That must be Chrissy,” Scotty says, recognizing the sound. Not many people own a manual truck that sounds like a twelve-gauge shotgun, but Chrissy definitely does. 

Sure enough, the front door is thrown open and in enters the arsonist herself.

“Is it just me, or are you smoking?” Scotty asks. 

Marcel nudges him, brows furrowed with displeasure. 

Scotty brushes him off, pointing at her. “No, you’re literally smoking, like actual smoke, like fucking wood smoke.” 

Chrissy enters the kitchen, and she is indeed smoking. 

Smoke curls off her shoes, and a little off her pants. 

“I had to put out a quick fire,” Chrissy tells them, swatting at her pant leg a couple times. “Nothing to worry about though, everything is contained!” 

“That’s what you said before you nearly burned down the diner last year,” Brian reminds her. 

Chrissy huffs, waving him off. “That wasn’t my fault.” 

“You lit the fire.” 

“They’re the ones who had oil all over the floor. They weren’t following the fucking health inspection shit, so maybe they had a fire coming to them, you know? Frying grease fuckin everywhere wasn’t my fault.” 

“Anyways,” Lauren says loudly. “Go help Brock with the grill.” 

Chrissy salutes her, looking more than pleased with that job. “Why yes, ma’am!” She skips out of the house, and everyone gets back to work. 

She’s gone for barely thirty seconds before she pops her head back into the kitchen, pointing at the door. “Kelly and Lanai aren’t coming, by the way. Couldn’t be fucked to climb down from their mountain for some good food, apparently.” 

“Thank you, Chrissy,” Lauren says. While she’s disappointed at the lack of the two women, that might’ve been too many people to cook for.  

She salutes again, and then Chrissy’s out back. 

Anthony is the last to arrive, bringing a couple bottles of whiskey and a crate of corn as his apology for being late. 

And as penance, Lauren puts him, Evan, and Scotty on shucking them and getting all that weird corn hair off of them. 

“You did this,” Scotty grumbles as he gets to work, grabbing the first of like, twenty ears of corn. “You did this horrible thing to us.” 

Anthony can only shrug. “You want corn with dinner or not? It’s fine if you don’t, I’ll just take it all back and fuck right off, depriving all of you of my glorious company.” 

Evan chuckles to himself. 

Scotty pushes the crate of corn back towards the man who brought it. “Leave then.” 

“Boys, get to work!” Lauren scolds them, brandishing a wooden spoon at them. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Scotty pulls the crate back to where it was, and grabs an ear to start shucking. 

They have it done shortly, with very little help from Scotty.

After that, Evan takes a break to escape the over-crowded kitchen. He snags two beers, heading out to the backyard where Brock’s officially been stationed with the grill. 

He hands his friend one of the beers, then twists the cap off his own, taking a drink and allowing himself to decompress a bit. 

He loves his friends very much, but with all of them together, it’s a bit much to handle for too long. 

“You doing alright?” Brock asks him. He sits down on one of the coolers that were for the fish, watching Evan out the corner of his eye as he looks about the rest of his property, all of which they can see from the backyard of the house. 

“I think so,” Evan answers. “I’m definitely better than I was, that’s for sure.” He thinks that’s the truth of it. He hopes it is. 

“You know we’re all here for you, whenever you need us,” Brock reminds him, gesturing to the house.

“I know.” Evan manages a smile. 

Brock sighs, leaning forward a bit so his elbows are resting on his knees, and suddenly, in that moment, he looks older than he’s ever been. He looks up to the night sky, as if searching for answers among the stars. 

Evan goes to sit beside him, occupying the other half of the cooler. He sits so their sides are touching; he remembers when they were kids, physical contact always grounded Brock when things were too much for him. 

“How are  _ you _ doing?” Evan asks, because Brock has a bad habit of neglecting himself in the pursuit of helping others. 

Brock takes a second to ponder his answer. He hasn’t really thought about how he’s doing in a good few weeks, maybe more than a month. He simply hasn’t had the time. 

“I’m stressed,” He finally answers. “Stressed about the baby, about Lauren, about you and everyone else being harmed by the peggies.” 

Evan wishes he could help more but there’s only so much he can do. So he wraps his arms around Brock, hoping to convey all the support and love he can through a hug. “You and Lauren are gonna be great parents,” Evan tells him and he truly believes it. “That kid is gonna be the best damn kid ever.” 

Brock smiles; he’d needed to hear that. A sudden idea pops into his head, one that has him shooting up from the cooler so fast Evan nearly falls off it. 

“Stay here,” Brock tells him before rushing into the house.

Wondering if his friend lost his sanity in that split-second, Evan takes a sip of beer and stays where he is. A single moment later, and a grinning Brock is dragging a confused Lauren out of the house and over to him. 

Brock plants his wife in front of Evan. He jerks his head to the confused man still sitting on the cooler. “Ask him what we talked about this morning.”

Understanding clears the confusion from Lauren’s face, and a smile of her own replaces it. She grabs Evan’s hand, holding it gently between both her own. “Will you be the godfather to our little girl?” She asks softly, bringing his hand to hover it over her stomach. 

Evan’s mouth falls open in shock. He looks to Brock, who’s waiting eagerly for his answer.

They’re really asking him? Surely they have better friends, friends who aren’t at the front of this madness with the cult, who haven’t already been shot and kidnapped several times.

But Evan knows that these two are some of the nicest and greatest people he would ever meet.

“I’d love too,” Evan breathes. “Holy shit, I’m honored.”

Then Lauren’s dragging him up and into a hug, crushing him with her surprising amount of strength. Brock joins the hug as well; he had figured Evan would accept, but he’s elated that he did. His daughter is going to have the best godfather on the planet. 

“Guys, Brian’s throwing carrots-”

The three of them all look to Scotty, who had left the house with a bit of carrot in his hair. He sees the three of them all hugging, and stops. 

“I interrupted a moment, didn’t I?” Scotty asks. He doesn’t wait for a reply before nodding to himself. “Right,” He mutters, swiftly turning and going back into the house. 

Lauren chuckles, patting both her husband and Evan before separating from the hug. “I’d better put a stop to that.” She leaves, giving them both a kiss on the cheek before she does. 

“We’ve been wanting to ask you for a while,” Brock admits as he watches his wife go inside and scold all their friends for throwing food. “We just needed the right moment.” 

“Thank you, guys.” Evan gives Brock another hug, because one can never give too many hugs. He also may or may not be slightly tearing up and doesn’t want his friend to see. “Thank you so much.” 

Brock easily returns the hug. “You’re welcome. Now let’s actually get dinner started, I’m kind of starving.”

 

Dinner takes another hour or so to cook, and the end result is absolutely incredible. Due to the number of people, they don’t even bother with the dining table. Everyone simply loads their plate and heads into the living room. 

Evan ends up sitting on the brick hearth of the fireplace. Simone sits on the ground to his right, and Peaches curls up next to her, tuckered out from playing with the dogs all evening. 

Said dogs are currently going from person to person, begging for scraps. 

Nogla tries to give both of them some fish, but neither eat it. Joe just sniffs it, while Tony takes it from his hand only to spit out onto the floor. 

Peaches eats it though, so no one cares.

As they eat, compliments upon compliments are thrown to Lauren and Brock about how good the food is. 

Marcel compliments the both of them at least twenty times alone. 

“You all helped,” Lauren reminds them several times. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this alone.” 

And maybe that’s what Evan likes so much about tonight. They all helped prepare the food, and now they’re having a good time eating it. 

Brian tells a couple stories about being a park ranger, mostly about people being spooked by the wildlife but it was their own damn fault. 

Chrissy tells the story of how she burnt down the only skating rink they had in the county. Her story is met with some outcry - everyone had suspected it was her, but she was never prosecuted for it for some reason, so people let it slide. 

Anthony’s mad about it though, he loved roller skating. 

Brock sits to Evan’s left, keeping close to his wife who’s sitting on the couch. The three of them don’t really talk much, they just bask in the presence of their friends. 

Evan’s very grateful for all of them. He simply can’t imagine a better group of people. 

Even though the little voice in the back of his head nags him that the group isn’t complete, that it’s missing several people - four brothers in particular. 

But he shoos those thoughts away because this is happy time. 

A good atmosphere, some great food, and amazing people. Happy time.

 

Once everyone’s done eating, the leftovers are divvied up and the dishes are cleaned, dried, and put away. 

Chrissy’s the first to leave, since she has to deliver some of the leftovers to Kelly and Lanai. She makes it known that she doesn’t think the two mountain ladies deserve the food, but Lauren makes her go take it to them all the same. 

Lauren also sends Anthony with some leftovers, to distribute amongst the Resistance at the county jail.

What little is left is given to Marcel, Scotty, Nogla, and Brian for them to fight over.

Evan watches from the living room, sitting on the couch with Peaches beside him. 

He only startles a little when Simone appears on his other side, leaning on the back of the couch. 

“You going back to the mountains tonight?” Simone asks him, sounding both curious and concerned. 

“Hadn’t really thought about it,” Evan admits. He probably should though, to get an early start tomorrow. There’s still a lot more shit to be done as far as liberating the mountains goes. 

“If you want, you can still crash at my place. Or I can drop you off somewhere.” 

Evan mulls over it, but there isn’t much to mull over. “Mind if I crash with you?” 

“Wouldn’t have offered if I did,” Simone tells him. “Let me say goodbye to Dingleberry One and Dingleberry Two and then we can hit the road.” She goes off to where the fight is still happening, interrupting to gain Scotty and Marcel’s attention.

Evan briefly wonders which one is One and which one is Two. Then he figures he should go say goodbye to the owners of the house they’re all in.

Lauren and Brock are standing on the porch, holding each other as they watch their guests leave. 

Evan just manages to still hear Chrissy’s loud-ass truck before it quiets down to white noise. 

“You leaving too?” Brock asks, having heard Evan open the front door. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna go stay the night with Simone, at her place.”

Lauren’s nose wrinkles. “Her yard has coyotes. Be careful.” 

“Will do,” Evan promises. He gives them both big hug. “Thank you again, for everything.” 

“We love you,” Lauren tells him. 

“We’re always here for you,” Brock adds. 

The front door opens again, and out steps Simone. Evan lets her say goodbye as well - a much shorter but still heartfelt goodbye - and then the two of them head for their truck.

“Drive safe!” Brock calls out to them.

“I always do,” Simone yells back. “Shut up,” She adds, seeing Evan’s raised eyebrow. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You were going to.” 

Evan shrugs, then turns on the radio. He waves to the Barrus’ as Simone pulls the truck out of their driveway. He watches as their house shrinks, then becomes hidden by forest. 

The drive to Simone’s house is calm. It’s dark, and he’s on the lookout for anything blocking the road, but it’s quiet tonight. 

They make it back in record time due to her speeding. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Simone says as she peels into her own driveway. 

Her house really is humble. It’s a nice cottage, hidden away from the main road but still easy to get to. 

The inside is rather plain, but with enough personal touches to make it feel homey. 

“You can take my bed, I’ll take the couch,” Simone says, heading for a closet to get some blankets. 

“Absolutely not,” Evan stands his ground. “You sleep in your own bed.” To prove his point, he throws himself down onto the couch, spreading so he takes up all of it. 

Simone just looks at him, then shakes her head. “Fine, you take the couch. Here.” She tosses him a couple blankets and a pillow. “Bathroom’s down the hall, cups are in the cabinet next to the sink, and guns are in this closet.” She knocks on the door to the closet with her finger. “I’ll be in my bedroom, wake me if you start dying or hear gunshots.” 

“Got it.” 

She starts to head to her bedroom, turning at the last second to look at the man on her couch. She gives him a small smile. “Goodnight, Evan.”

Evan smiles back at her. “Goodnight, Simone.”

He doesn’t dream that night. It’s the best sleep he’s gotten in weeks.


	15. ouch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Simone fuck some shit up and then get fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, quick warning: school's starting up for me in like two days, and updates are gonna drastically slow the fuck down because of it. I'll still try my best to at least update every two weeks, but honestly, who the fuck knows if that's actually gonna happen. 
> 
> With all that said, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. The action picks up but i can't write action so go easy on me

“Do we have to go see Kelly and Lanai in person?” Evan asks, not for the first time. 

Simone huffs, taking her eyes off the road just long enough to give him a pointed look. “We’re going to the Wolf’s Den, Evan, suck it up. They’re important people, you need to actually meet them.” 

“Lanai said you should’ve left me to die,” Evan reminds her. “Not exactly a warm welcome.” 

“She’s been through a lot of shit, cut her some slack.” Simone thinks about her words for a moment, then realizes that was kind of a pointless argument since  _ everyone’s _ been through a lot of shit lately. 

But Evan doesn’t press it. He just watches the road, and sometimes watches Peaches as she’s lying in the bed of the truck. 

The drive is rather short, just a good bit up into the mountains. They have to go up a dirt path for a good portion of it, weaving through some heavy trees at some point. 

If Evan didn’t know that they had an actual destination, he might’ve thought Simone was taking him away from civilization to kill him or something.

They don’t even drive all the way to the bunker. They drive past it, further up the hill, parking at some camping grounds. Simone ties Peaches to the truck with some rope, then takes Evan’s arm and leads him away. 

“Tyler doesn’t know where the Wolf’s Den is,” Simone explains as they trudge down the mountain path. “We need to keep it that way.” 

“He really doesn’t know?” Evan finds that hard to believe.

Tyler seems like he needs to know what’s happening in every corner of his territory at every moment of the day. 

“We’re here.” Simone points to a hatch on the ground. “Help me open the door.” 

Together, the two of them open the hatch. Evan holds it open while Simone drops down, then he carefully enters the bunker, watching to make sure he doesn’t squish his fingers. He’d prefer to keep all ten of them.

Although now he sees why they had to leave Peaches in the truck. He can’t imagine trying to get her down the ladder. He wonders how they managed her when they took him here the first time. 

Once the door is shut, Simone leads him further into the bunker. 

They pass through a hallway that branches into a bunch of different rooms, to the room at the end. 

It’s obviously a planning room. One wall is occupied with televisions, at least ten of them, showing grainy camera footage from around the entirety of the mountains. Evan wonders how many cameras are stationed throughout the region. He also wonders how Tyler’s men haven’t seen them - or if they have, why they haven’t done anything about it.

The wall across the televisions is covered with a large map and other papers, photographs, and everything else. There’s a door in the corner; it’s got a glass window in it, but it’s covered with a curtain.

The table in the center of the room is also covered with a map, papers and even blueprints, along with a compound bow in the corner. 

Standing next to said bow is Kelly. She looks worn down beyond belief, but she perks up when Simone and Evan enter the room. 

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” Kelly says. “Just in time too, we’re in some hot shit right about now.” 

“What happened?” Simone asks, going over to the table. 

“We’re in a bad way up here,” The silver-haired woman tells Evan, gesturing to everything around them. “We’re bleeding bodies left and right, we won’t last a week unless something changes.”

“What happened?” Simone repeats herself, reaching her hand out to touch the other woman’s shoulder. 

Kelly sighs, bringing her right hand up to scrub at her face. “I wanted to take back some footholds, so I sent a group to go fuck up the Visitor’s Center - the cult’s been using it as a depot for their Bliss shit. I sent them into a trap.” She lets out a harsh laugh, empty except for self-hatred. “They’ve been taken hostage, and we’re up against the clock.” 

“We’ll get them back,” Evan promises, taking a step closer. “We’ll help you.” 

“You guys are damn angels,” Kelly tells them. She stands a bit straighter, and points at the map on the table. “Since you guys aren’t something the cult will be expecting, you have the element of surprise. Use it; you can’t be seen or they’ll kill our people, no hesitation.” 

Evan clenches his fist at that. Innocent peoples’ deaths aren’t really something he wants to be the cause of today.

“You two are the only ones I know can handle this,” Kelly says. “You two are the only ones I trust to handle this.” 

Evan wonders if she’s sincere, or simply out of options as far as another rescue group goes. He chooses to believe the former, and gives her a smile. 

“We’ll get your people,” Simone promises her. “Where’s Lanai?” 

“I’m right here,” Said woman says, exiting from the small room off of the planning room. She’s wearing rubber gloves and boots, and holding a set of pliers that are shining with what’s clearly blood. 

Evan thinks that maybe he can hear the sounds of another person in that little back room. He doesn’t want to think about the implications of bloody pliers.

She stops just short of the table, clenching and unclenching the pliers as she looks at Evan. “I might have been a little harsh when you were here,” Lanai says. “I’m not apologizing, just acknowledging. I don’t trust people I don’t know.” 

Kelly nudges her with her elbow, giving her a light glare. 

Lanai sighs, and gives Evan a forced smile. “But Kelly says you’re alright, so I gotta go with that.” 

“That’s the best you could do?” Kelly deadpans. 

“It’s the best you’re gonna get. There’s shit to be done.” Lanai crosses her arms, looking at both Evan and Simone. “Radio me when you finish the Visitor’s Center job, I got something else you can do.” 

Kelly clears her throat. 

Lanai groans. “Please and thank you.” With that, she whirls around and heads back into her room, where Evan’s pretty sure he can hear pure electricity buzzing and water sloshing around.

 

Evan remembers the Visitor’s Center. He never went too much - it was mainly for the tourists, however few those were - but he went a couple times. 

It used to be for introducing the tourists to the mountains around them - learning about the wildlife, outdoor activities, that kind of thing. 

Now, the cult’s using it to store their Bliss until it needs to be moved. 

Evan looks through his binoculars, watching the peggies move about. These peggies moved with precision, always stationed to cover all of the center. 

Clearly well trained, clearly Tyler’s men.

_ “There should be five hostages,” _ Kelly tells them, her static-overlayed voice guiding them through this. 

“I only see three,” Evan tells her. Just to be safe, he gives Simone the binoculars. 

After a few moments, she confirms, “Yeah, only three.”

_ “Shit. Save those three then, we’ll go from there.”  _

“Got it, chief.” Evan puts the binoculars away in favor of his pistol that has a silencer he picked up from the Wolf’s Den. He’s also got his throwing knives - he’s prepared to be stealthy as fuck. 

He wishes he could’ve brought his missile launcher though. It’s been too long since he’s exploded something. Oh well. 

Simone takes out her compound bow, notching an arrow with ease. 

“You go left, I’ll go right. Peggies first, hostages last,” Evan says. He nudges Peaches a little, hoping that she won’t give them all away.

“See you in a few,” Simone winks at him, then disappears off into the shadows, blending in effortlessly despite it being midday. 

Evan moves as well, keeping low to the ground and hiding behind various crates and Bliss barrels and whatever other cover is scattered over the center. The cougar follows closely behind him, staying low to the ground as if she knows they need to be quiet.

The main building is up on a hill; some stairs on both sides lead up to it, with the parking lot down at the bottom of them. 

Evan approaches from behind the Center, taking out a couple peggies on the way with a knife to their throat. Peaches growls once, but otherwise remains quiet.

There’s one hostage in the actual center, bound and on the floor underneath the glass roof. 

Evan passes them for now; the other two are on either side of the parking lot, with several cultists in between them. 

He sees someone take an arrow to the throat in his peripheral vision. He takes out another with his knife, dumping the body behind a crate. 

There’s only four peggies left, all oblivious to their dead teammates. 

Make that three - another goes down with an arrow through their eye. 

Evan takes out his pistol, impatient with the whole stealth process. He pops a couple shots in one’s chest, quickly doing the same to the furthest, while the last peggie drops, an arrow in their chest. 

Evan and Simone go to free the two hostages in the parking lot, then bound up the stairs to get to the last one. 

As Simone unties the man, Evan sees a missile launcher laying on the service counter, along with a few rockets. He grabs them, slinging the launcher over his back and stuffing the rockets into his pockets. Just in case, you know?

“They took the others,” The now-free man tells them. “Up to the Hawkeye Tunnel, that can’t be good!” 

“Let’s go,” Simone drags Evan through the Center, towards the opposite direction of the parking lot. “I know where it is.” 

Evan fumbles for his radio, letting himself be lead as he tunes into the Whitetail’s channel. “Kelly, they’re at the Hawkeye Tunnel, we’re heading there now.” 

_ “Fuck, fuck, no! They had to take our guys to Devil’s Drop, to force them to tell where the Den is. If our men tell them, we’re fucked, and if they don’t, they’ll be dropped off a cliff. You gotta haul ass.” _

Simone takes that to heart, and starts sprinting, dragging Evan with her. He hopes Peaches can keep up with them

“We’ll radio when we can,” Evan tells the radio. He drops the receiver so he can focus on not getting clotheslined by a tree as they run. 

“It’s just up ahead,” Simone swats a branch out of her way, yanking Evan harder. 

After what feels like several miles, they finally burst out of the forest and onto a road. Evan looks back down, and sees that they really did just sprint up a giant hill and damn is his legs aren’t screaming at him for it. 

They stop to catch their breath, but only enough so they aren’t panting. Peaches shows up a few seconds later, looking beyond pissed for a cat. 

Simone grabs Evan’s arm, taking him a bit further down the road. “The Drop is in the middle of the tunnel, we’re gonna have to fight our way to it.”

When the tunnel comes into their view, Evan can see that there will definitely be a fight. The entrance is blocked off by two trucks, each with a mounted gun in the bed, and surrounded by sandbags and barbed wire. 

Evan assumes the other entrance to the tunnel is the same. 

And now he’s really glad he grabbed the missile launcher.

“The tunnel’s just going to amplify the explosion,” Simone tells him. “The hostages could get hurt. Give me your radio.” 

Evan does as she tells him, handing her the receiver. 

“Kelly, do you have eyes on the drop?” 

A moment passes, then Kelly answers affirmatively. 

“How far are the hostages to the edge?’ 

_ “Pretty damn close. A foot or two. One peggie with them, the others are all in the tunnel itself.” _

Simone sighs, then hands the receiver back to Evan. “Go ahead with whatever you wanna do, there isn’t an easy way out of this.” She grabs Peaches’ collar, holding tight so she won’t follow him. 

Evan grins, taking that to mean he can go fucking wild. He grabs his launcher, and walks out to the middle of the road, getting down on one knee so he can aim properly. 

He holds his breath, and fires. 

The first two trucks explode brilliantly, ripping through everything around them. 

Evan fires again, aiming for the silhouettes on the other side of the tunnel. Those explode too, and Simone was definitely right about the tunnel channeling the explosion.

There’s still movement, so Evan fires once more while Simone races to the first roadblock, searching for something. 

She digs around one of the bodies, then picks up their assault rifle. After making sure it still works, she enters the tunnel, firing at anything that moves. 

Evan slings his launcher over his shoulder and quickly follows her, pistol ready. 

He shoots one last peggie, and then the tunnel is clear. 

Simone gestures over to an opening in the tunnel, which must be the Devil’s Drop. 

It’s an outlook, meant for pedestrians. It opens out onto a cliff, and the view is spectacular if you can get over the hundred foot drop onto straight rocks. 

The last two hostages are way too close to the edge, on their knees and bound. 

Evan and Simone each free one, then he tells Kelly. 

_ “You got trouble on the way,”  _ Kelly says. 

Sharing a glance with Simone, Evan tunes his radio to the peggie channel. Immediately, they’re bombarded with peggies shouting orders, most notably one about the tunnel being assaulted. 

He tunes it back to the Whitetail’s channel, suddenly feeling uneasy. 

“Fuck.” Simone says simply as she points to the sky. 

Evan turns to look, and sees two helicopters heading towards them. “Get them out of here,” He tells her, grabbing his launcher. 

Simone does as he says, knowing that there’s nothing else she can do. She grabs the two hostages and hauls ass towards the other end of the tunnel. Peaches remains near Evan, eyes searching for the source of all the commotion.

Evan crouches down behind a Bliss barrel, propping his launcher up on top of it. 

He takes aim for one of the helicopters, and fires. 

They swerve out the way. The other one opens fire, shooting two machine gun’s worth of ammo into the outlook. 

Evan grabs Peaches by her collar and bolts, heading into the tunnel where Simone waits for him.

She points to something at the far entrance. “There’s a mounted gun, still working. I can distract them.” 

“No!”

“It’s our only fucking option.” Simone sprints off anyways, because you can’t tell her what to do.

The hostages are nowhere to be seen, but Evan can’t care about that right now. He waits until he can hear Simone firing the mounted gun, then heads back into the outlook. 

Both helicopters are focused on her. 

Evan fires away. The first one explodes in a brilliant wave of heat and red. 

Simone manages to shoot out the glass on the other, giving Evan enough time to hit it with a missile.

They hear a vehicle pulling up to the other entrance. 

Out of missiles, Evan throws his launcher down and grabs his pistol instead. He waits until he can see the intruders, taking aim for the tires of the ATV. 

“Don’t shoot!” They scream, waving one hand around. “Get on, I’ll get us out of here!” 

Simone recognizes the orange vest they’re wearing; it’s the hostage she freed. She starts running towards them, leaving Evan to follow. 

He briefly hesitates with Peaches, before mentally saying ‘fuck it’ and picking her up. He holds onto her tightly, one hand on her collar and the other crushing her to his chest, and gets on the ATV behind Simone. 

With the both of them on the ATV, they drive away. They drive on the main road for a while, then cut through some dirt paths. 

Evan and Simone allow themselves to be taken to wherever the person is going, which actually happens to be the lumber mill. 

When they stop, they thank Evan and Simone once more, then hurry off into the main building. 

Evan gets off the ATV, placing Peaches on the ground and taking some deep breaths to calm down. 

Simone stays on it, shuffling so she’s more comfortable. 

“Fuck me, that was awful,” Evan tells her. He stretches his arms up, cracking his shoulders before he plops onto the ground. His legs still hurt, especially now that his adrenaline is fading. 

“Yeah, that kinda was.” 

Evan grabs his radio with a shaky hand. “Kelly, you there?” 

_ “Are you two alright?”  _ She sounds extremely worried. 

“We’re fine,” He promises. He holds the receiver out to Simone, who tells her the same thing. 

_ “Thank God, I saw the helicopters, I thought they were gonna try and cave in the tunnel or something. What about the Whitetail’s?”  _

“All rescued. One of them got us out of there, drove us to the lumber mill,” Simone answers. 

Kelly lets out an audible sigh of relief.  _ “Good, good. The lumber mill you say?”  _

Simone looks at Evan, a knowing smirk on her face. “Yes, Kelly, the lumber mill.” 

_ “You’re awfully close to the Grandview Hotel.”  _

“Let us chill for a second before you send us on another death trap.” 

_ “Fair enough, but there’s always more to be done everywhere.”  _

“And we’ll get it done,” Evan promises. “But we need to relax.”

_ “Just don’t take too long.”  _

Simone rolls her eyes, but her fond smile gives her away. “I guess we should try and do something else, huh?” 

“Can’t we eat something first? Sprinting up a hill takes so much damn energy.” Evan rubs his legs to prove his point. He’s going to be sore beyond belief tomorrow, he can feel it now. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. There’s gotta be something to eat around here.” 

 

Another hour later, and they were back on the road. They had eaten some granola bars for lunch - supplies were running low at the mill - and then they borrowed a truck. 

Simone drives again, while Evan talks to Kelly and keeps a watch on Peaches. He’s beginning to think it might be easier to leave the cougar somewhere like Fall’s End if he’s going to be in the mountains much longer. 

_ “The Grandview is the shithole we pulled you out of, Evan. Prisoners there are subjected to the same mind-melting nonsense Tyler subjected you to.”  _

“So why are we going back?” Evan’s tone makes it clear he’d rather do anything that return to that awful place. 

_ “He’s got one of our guys, Briggs, and Briggs happens to know where the Den is, and will definitely tell Tyler once his mind is gone. We can’t let that happen. We also can’t just kill him, because then, we’re no better than Tyler. You have to save him.” _

“We will,” Evan says. “We’ll get your guy back.” 

_ “He won’t hold out nearly as long as you, so you gotta move quick. Here’s what we’re gonna go - Lanai’s cooked up a little deprogramming package. We used it on you, it works. You need to switch out the tape they got playing for Briggs, and replace it with the one we’ll give you.”  _

“How’re we gonna get it?” Simone asks. 

Evan holds the receiver closer to her and holds down the button. She repeats her question, cutting Kelly off. 

_ “I’ll send someone to meet you down there. The Grandview’s a big place, you’ll need the help.” _

 

That someone ended up being Lanai. She showed up with a silenced rifle and a satchel full of grenades as well as the deprogramming tape. 

She met up with Evan and Simone where they were waiting, by the dirt road that led to the hotel from the main road. 

Together with Peaches in tow, the four of them began walking the rest of the way to the hotel in silence. Lanai led them up a small hill to gain a vantage point. 

Crouching down amongst the grass, Evan looked through his binoculars. 

The Grandview itself is a pretty large building, situated almost right on the shore of a lake. With the water to the back, and the woods surrounding the rest of it, it’s a pretty well-fortified place. 

Two alarms sit on either side of the hotel. A decent group of peggies roam the grounds and parking lot, and Evan can see flashes of more of them inside. 

“They’re expecting some wild shit,” Lanai mutters. “They have mounted guns on both the front and back decks.” 

Evan takes a better look, only to find she’s right. On the deck that  wraps around the entire building’s second floor, there’s at least four mounted guns. They’re currently unoccupied, but two peggies are roaming the deck, too close for comfort. There aren’t any on the top deck that goes partially around the third floor though.

“This is gonna be a bitch,” Simone says. 

“We can do this.” Evan stands up, grabbing his silenced pistol. “Someone goes left, someone goes right, and the other person covers them. We disable the alarms first, then we just go wild on ‘em.” 

“I’ll cover, I got long-range,” Lanai offers. 

Evan and Simone nod. 

“Let’s do this.”

 

This place is significantly more difficult to sneak around than the Visitor’s Center. There seems to be peggies fucking everywhere, around every corner and behind every door. 

Evan doesn’t even chance killing one until he gets to the alarm. He doesn’t want a discovered body alerting anyone. 

Slowly and carefully, he makes his way past enemies and around the hotel,  _ finally _ arriving at the alarm. 

He disables it, then gets to where he can see the other one. 

The green light’s gone out - Simone’s got that one. 

Evan sneaks up behind a peggie holding a rifle, standing just beyond the hotel, near a parked truck. 

He stabs the cultist in the neck, quickly dragging his body behind the truck. He takes the peggie’s rifle for himself. 

He starts shooting any peggie he sees, taking cover behind a stack of food crates.

He hears shots being fired on the other side of the hotel. He sometimes sees bodies dropping that he knows could only be shot by someone facing the hotel head-on. 

He lost track of Peaches, but he’s sure she’s doing her own thing and taking out some peggies. 

When there’s no more peggies on his side of the mayhem, Evan enters the hotel through a broken side door. 

He sweeps the first floor, noting the wreckage. Every piece of furniture save for a single wooden table is broken. Half of the debris has been propped up into a ramp of sorts to reach the upper deck. 

He hears something crunch behind him, then a blaring pain sparks on the back of his head. Evan crumples to the ground, vision pulsing and head in agony. 

He goes to roll over to fend off his attacker, but there’s no need. An orange blob of fur pounces on the peggie, teeth latching firmly onto their throat. A baseball bat - now bloody in one spot - rolls out of their hands and onto the floor. 

Evan pushes himself back up, fighting a wave of nausea so strong it also sends him to his knees. 

He keeps going though. 

Keeps walking towards the fighting.

He sees another peggie coming down a flight of stairs. He fires blindly at them, distracting them enough for Peaches to finish them off. 

He bursts through the other side of the hotel, just in time to see Simone shoot the last of the peggies outside. 

“Fuck, you okay?” She rushes over to his side, checking him over with her hands. 

Evan winces when her hand brushes against the back of his head. It comes away slightly bloody. 

Simone looks into his eyes, then huffs. “What happened?” 

“Baseball bat,” Evan answers. Talking is more difficult than he’d like it too, but thankfully there isn’t much time for it.

Lanai rushes down to them from her spot on the hill, hauling ass and looking pissed. Her radio is buzzing with chatter, some of it Kelly’s, some of it unrecognizable voices. “They’re sending back up teams, like helicopters and boats and shit. We need to move, now!” 

Simone grabs Evan’s arm, leading him inside the hotel. She drags him past the wreckage, up the stairs - pausing to shoot a peggie as they exited a random room - and towards the second floor balcony. 

She pushes him towards one of the mounted guns. “I’m going back, Lanai you go where you’re needed.” 

Evan barely notices Simone leaving to go to the back, nor does he really notice Lanai station herself at the gun barely ten feet away from him. 

He just notices three helicopters in the distance coming towards them. 

Evan waits to start shooting until they’re a good bit closer, then fires. He lets loose a torrent of bullets, aiming for the cockpit, for the spinning blades, for anything that might bring those stupid things down to the ground.

Lanai takes out the one on the left; it drops, landing among the forest. The blades get caught on the trees, and it explodes a moment later. 

Evan focuses his fire on the right one. It’s trying to move out of the way while also firing it’s machine gun at him; it’s bullets aren’t anywhere near him, while his are definitely aimed right for the cockpit. 

That helicopter drops from the air too. 

Together, Lanai and Evan take out the last one. It doesn’t stand a chance against the two of them. It explodes before it can even hit the ground. 

“Stay here,” Lanai tells him as she heads around back. 

Evan listens to the two of them shoot up a fleet of boats pulling up from the lake. He isn’t idle for very long, though. 

Some trucks pull up from the main road, each holding a small group of peggies. 

Evan starts firing, aiming for engines and drivers. 

Lanai reappears by his side, helping him exterminate at a much more efficient pace. 

Before they know it, it’s quiet. 

Evan merely stands behind his mounted gun. His brain is fuzzy, but he knows that they’ve done the hardest part of the mission. He wants to celebrate. 

Suddenly, he really really  _ really _ wants a cold beer. 

“We have to find Briggs,” Lanai reminds him with a stern voice, grabbing his arm and dragging him back into the hotel. 

But things must be done before he can even think about finding a beer. 

There’s no rooms on the first floor left intact, so Simone and Evan sweep the second floor while Lanai sweeps the third. 

Evan finds a good bit of supplies left in the rooms, from spare ammo to first aid kits, as well as a couple molotov cocktails. He should bring one to Brian. Maybe another day. 

Simone finds a couple bodies, definitely not peggie. And they definitely were not killed by someone else. 

Evan closes those doors, wishing those poor people peace. 

“He’s up here!” Lanai shouts, her voice echoing through the trashed hotel. 

Simone and Evan race up the stairs, running to the only room whose door is open. 

Inside, a man sits, strapped to a wheelchair. A table is behind him, on it is a projector displaying those same horrible images of wolves.

Lanai pops the tape out of the projector, replacing it with the deprogramming one. 

“And that’s that,” She says, exhaustion underlining the satisfaction in her voice.

Evan slumps to the ground, bones weary and muscles aching. His heads, dear  _ god _ does his head hurt. The nausea is back too, just to top it all off. 

Peaches rubs up against him, startling him. 

Evan pets her, his hand hand missing her body the first time before sinking into her fur. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Lanai asks as if he isn’t right the fuck there. 

“Got hit in the head,” Simone answers, again as if he isn’t there. 

“He’s probably got a concussion, you should take him back to the Den.” 

“Probably.” Simone looks at him for a moment, then at Peaches. Does she really wanna deal with getting the cougar back into the bunker? For Evan… the answer is yes. 

She walks over to the collapsed man, offering her hand to him. “You good here?” She asks Lanai while helping Evan back to his feet. 

“Yeah, I’ll radio back and get a team out here. You two get going.”

 

And off they went. Simone dropped Evan off outside with Peaches while she went back to go get their truck, then picked up the two passengers and drove back up towards the  mountains.

They were about halfway there when Evan’s radio came to life, with a voice that made Simone stop the car in the middle of the road.

_ “You know, Evan, if it were up to me, you would have ceased to be a problem a long time ago.”  _ Tyler’s voice fills the car, dropping the temperature in the car by a solid ten degrees.  _ “But Ohm has other plans for you. He wants to talk to you, and you’re gonna listen. Don’t worry, my hunters will bring you to him.” _

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Simone chants to herself, starting the car back up and speeding much faster back to the Den. 

“Wait, stop!” Evan lightly shoves her, trying to jostle her out of this panic. “We can’t lead them back to the Den!” 

“We can outrun them,” Simone says, but her words are weak. Her hands are gripping the wheel too tightly, her foot solid against the accelerator. 

“No we can’t-” 

A gunshot sounds, the truck rumbles and jumps, then goes swerving violently off the road. 

“FUCK!” Simone tries to steady the wheel, but the force of everything throws her off.

Evan can see Peaches flying clear off the bed of the truck, landing roughly on the street. He tries to brace himself against his door and his seat. 

The side of the truck he’s on slams into a tree. Evan’s head gets slammed into the seat, making his probable-concussion and now definite-concussion. 

Simone’s out cold, slumped over in her seat. 

Brain fuzzy, vision blackening, and body aching, Evan tries to open his door. Of course, a whole-ass tree being the way will hinder that process a good bit. 

He tries to climb out the window, but he can’t make his body cooperate with him more than just raising his hands. 

Someone else shows up to do all the work for him though. Sadly, it’s not someone he’d rather see at all. 

A peggie, clad in the red balaclava that all of Tyler’s Chosen must wear, calmly walks up to the window of the truck. 

Using their elbow, they go ahead and smash the rest of the glass that was still lingering in the partially-shattered window. Once the way is clear, they reach through, roughly grabbing Evan and pulling him through. 

They let him drop to the ground once he’s out of the truck. Evan lands with a groan, rolling over onto his stomach. He presses his head to the ground to fight the building nausea, but it isn’t helping. 

He props himself up on his elbow, and promptly pukes his fucking guts out onto the pavement. 

The peggie kindly waits until he’s done before hoisting him up over their shoulder and carrying him over to an ATV where their partner awaits. 

As they walk, Evan can see Peaches lying on the road, breathing but not moving. He reaches for her, arm shaking with the effort. 

“We ain’t taking the cougar,” The peggie tells him. 

It takes a second for their words to process in Evan’s mind, but when they finally do, he sags with relief. He hopes Simone wakes up soon. He really hopes she’s okay. He should’ve fucking checked.

“I’ll catch a ride back, this guy’s pretty fucked up,” The second peggie says, standing back from the ATV. 

The first one shrugs, and deposits Evan over the back of the vehicle. They bind his wrists and ankles, then tying a rope over him so he’s secured to the ATV. Without a word, the peggie starts driving, away from the crash, away from Simone and Peaches. 

Towards Tyler, towards hell. 

Evan thinks he vomits once more before passing out, letting the darkness consume him entirely. 


	16. some not-campfire stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan learns some more about what happened to the brothers, and a bit about himself in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As i expected, school is severely limiting my writing time, so updates will probably be about every two weeks. Hopefully.

Evan wakes up to a world of pain. 

So nothing new. 

Head, body, legs - everything hurts. It doesn’t help that whatever surface he’s on is as hard as the fucking ground. 

Evan opens his eyes, and finds that he is actually lying on the ground. On his back, on the dirt, in a metal cage big enough for several more people to fit in. 

He forces himself to sit up, fighting a tsunami of nausea as he pushes himself against the cold bars of the cage.

“You’re up,” A voice says in front of him. The voice sets off a spark of recognition in Evan, but his brain is too fuzzy to tell who it is. 

Something shiny flashes in his field of vision. It’s attached to hand, that’s attached to the body of someone crouching down to his level. 

Evan focuses his eyes on their face. It takes a few moments, but his vision eventually coalesces into the face of a friend. 

“Craig,” Evan croaks, voice rough from disuse. He tries to stand, but the second he presses a foot to the ground, he collapses. 

Crawling sounds like a good alternative, so he does that. He drags himself across the cage, to the side where his friend is holding a canteen. 

“Here, drink,” Craig raises the canteen to his lips for him, helping Evan when he can’t help himself. 

It’s just water, and it isn’t even cold, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the best damn thing right now. 

Evan greedily gulps it down until the canteen is empty. He gags once, the nausea almost too much, but he manages to keep the water down. 

It helps clear his head a little, enough to really look at his surroundings. 

There’s more cages on the other three sides of his. It reminds him of a dog pound. Most are occupied, and those occupants aren’t looking too great. Some are slumped to the ground, some are sobbing, some are screaming. 

Peggies are bustling about, but they don’t give Evan nor the sheriff a second glance. 

“You’re at Tyler’s compound,” Craig tells him. “The Veterans’ Center, you remember that?” 

Evan manages a nod. He looks up to his friend, who has a fresh cut spanning his entire left cheek. “Simone, a-and Peaches,” he asks, voice still raspy but feeling better. 

“They aren’t here,” Craig answers. “I assume they’re with the Whitetails.” 

Evan nods again, because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Flashes of yesterday - was it yesterday? 

Flashes of what happened flood his mind. He remembers the car crash, he remembers the Visitor’s Center, then he remembers the hotel - he remembers being hit on the head. 

His hand goes to feel where he was hit, only to find something rough blocking his touch. It feels like a patch - a bandage. He was patched up while he was here. 

Why? 

“You hungry?” Craig asks suddenly, shifting his weight to his other foot.

Evan shakes his head. He shifts his gaze to the ground. It’s easier to look at. 

“Thompson.” 

Craig startles, jumping up so he’s standing at attention without even realizing he’s doing it. 

Evan merely shifts his gaze, and internally groans upon seeing Tyler. Then he notices someone standing behind Tyler. Someone with a blindfold over their eyes.

The Prophet and his Herald are here. It’s a fucking party now.

Evan forces himself to sit up a bit straighter.

“Get out of here,” Tyler commands the sheriff with a snarl.

Craig scurries off, sending a second glance to Evan before heading into the Center. 

Ohm moves from behind Tyler, stepping closer to the cage until he’s mere inches from Evan, separated only by the bars. He crouches down, and Evan suddenly realizes that he’s wearing a shirt. 

The Prophet is finally wearing a damn shirt. 

Ohm places his hands on the bars, wrapping his fingers around them. The rosary on his wrist dangles freely. “I know you’re in pain,” Ohm says, voice soft and understanding. “Both physical and not. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh, hm? You’re not the only one to be tested. Did you know I had a wife?” 

Evan blinks. He never would’ve imagined Ohm being married. He remembers Ohm as a pretty quiet kid, reserved around people he didn’t trust, a bit on the nerdy side. Not exactly the marrying type.

Ohm rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a tattoo on his forearm. The tattoo is of a woman with dark hair, surrounded by flowers. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Ohm asks, tracing the edge of her face with his finger. He looks from his tattoo to Evan. “We were pregnant with our first child. And we were just babies ourselves, really. And I was terrified.” He lets out a low chuckle, eyes dropping back down to the tattoo. “Of becoming a father.” He shakes his head a little. “Mostly about money. She wasn’t worried. She had faith things were gonna work out.” Ohm looks back at Evan, eyes piercing his even through the blindfold. “She always had faith.” 

Evan looks from Ohm to his brother, who’s just standing there, face impassive as ever. Tyler watches him, watches as his brother tells the story to the deputy.

“And then one day, she was gonna go visit a friend.” Ohm’s voice tightens, becomes rougher. “There was an accident. And the Lord taketh. They rushed me to a hospital, and put me in a room with this little pink bundles stuffed full of tubes. And they said I had to be strong because my little girl was going to live.” Ohm glances to Evan, a smile full of sadness stretching his lips. “I would’ve named her Faith. They left me in the room with her. I just… stared. At my daughter. So helpless, so innocent. And all she had was me. A nobody from nowhere with  _ nothing _ .” 

Evan shifts, wanting less and less to hear the end of this story. Ohm must sense his discomfort, for he reaches through the bars to place his hand on Evan’s shoulder. It seems more a sign of comfort to himself than to Evan, though. 

“I went to the hospital cafeteria. It was late, they told me, and I needed to eat. I couldn’t eat much of anything. When I returned to the room, nurses and doctors were swarming my little girl. And the Lord taketh again.” Ohm pauses, reliving the moment in his mind. The horror, the pain, the anger.

“The Lord giveth, and the Lord… taketh. In taking my family, He gave me a purpose. He told me of the Collapse, of how to prepare for it. He lead me to my brothers, He lead all of us back here, to where it all began.” Ohm bunches his hand in Evan’s shirt and stands, dragging Evan up with him. 

“Think on what the Lord has given you, Evan. He only asks for that you serve Him no matter what He asks. That may be a price you’re unwilling to pay, but think on what He’s given you in return. What you could have, if you only you choose the right path.” Ohm stares into his eyes for a moment longer, searching for something unbeknownst to Evan. 

He finds what he’s looking for, though. He releases Evan, then steps to his brother. Ohm places his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, offering him a smile. “Everything will be alright,” He promises, voice soft and reassuring.

Tyler nods once. He watches as Ohm leaves the compound. Once his brother is gone, Tyler looks back to the cage. Back to Evan. 

Evan hesitantly meets his gaze, expecting more rage and hatred to be staring at him. But it’s nothing of the sort. 

He honestly can’t tell what emotion is in Tyler’s eyes right now. 

Some sort of softness. Pity, most likely. 

But not the raw fury Evan was expecting. He honestly doesn’t know how to react to it. He drops his gaze to the ground, looking at his dirty shoes instead.

“Thompson,” Tyler barks. 

Evan doesn’t look up as he hears his friend hurrying back from wherever he had escaped too. 

He listens to Tyler’s voice as the soldier speaks low enough that Evan can’t discern the words, merely the displeased tone. 

Evan misses that voice whispering sweet nothings to him in the early mornings. 

The metal door to his cage shrieks open, and there stands Craig, looking more than a little confused himself. 

Tyler’s gone, having dispatched his orders and left. 

“You need to follow me,” Craig tells him. He gestures meekly, ever unsure of himself and the entire situation. 

Evan slowly gets up, using the bar to steady himself. “Where we goin?” He takes a step forward, then another. When he doesn’t faceplant the ground, he keeps going. He follows Craig out of his cage, through the grounds of the Center. 

“You… you’re being moved. To a room.” 

“Why?” Evan looks behind him. At the rows of cages staring back at him, of the helpless prisoners in there waiting to die. To be culled. 

“I don’t know,” Craig sounds utterly disturbed by that. 

Evan doesn’t say anything else; it’s taking more than a bit of concentration to walk. One foot forward, then the next. One step, two step. Red step, blue step. 

They enter the Veteran’s Center, and Evan takes this time to look around. He’s never been inside before - it was pretty well-secured before the cult took over. 

It’s honestly a bit disappointing. The main lobby or whatever it is is pretty bare. There are two staircases that lead off of it, going up to the other two floors of the building. It’s all very sparse, and very clean. The housing of an efficient and effective Soldier and his comrades. 

Craig leads Evan up a flight of stairs to the third floor. They go down one hallway, then stop pretty shortly before a set of double doors. 

“This is Tyler’s room,” Craig whispers. “Don’t ever fucking go in there.” He keeps going down the hall, all the way to the end. “And this is your room.” He’s still whispering. 

Craig opens the door and steps inside, followed closely by Evan. 

The room, like everything else, is bare and clean. 

A simple twin bed in the far corner, by a window with curtains that were probably white once upon a time but are now dirty, stained a suspicious rust color in some places. A desk without a chair in the corner opposite the bed, closest to the door. A dresser in the remaining corner. 

“Home sweet home,” Evan murmurs as he goes to sit on the bed. He’s grateful to be out of the cage, so he won’t complain about the room. He looks to his friend, who’s still standing by the door and glaring at the desk. “Why… this?” 

“I don’t know,” Craig answers honestly. “It’s fucking weird. He never gives a single shit about the people in the cages. They’re just meat to him. Target practice.” 

Evan swallows roughly. 

“I have to go. He told me to bring you here then report back to him.” 

Evan brings his friend in for a quick hug, and doesn’t miss when Craig flinches at the contact. The sheriff doesn’t even return the hug, conditioned to expect something much worse than a simple embrace. 

Evan ends the hug quickly. “Goodbye.” 

Craig nods once, then leaves. He shuts the door firmly behind him. 

Evan sits on the bed, unsure of what to do now. He doesn’t want to risk leaving his room and getting caught; he might not be in a cage, but he’s still a prisoner. 

He lies down, taking comfort in the soft bed. It’s not too soft - no blankets, no sheets, just a mattress. But it’s better than the ground. He tries not to think about what he was told. He doesn’t want to think about Ohm, about how he lost his entire family, about how that grief mutated into him being a Prophet and being commanded to kill people.

He tries not to think about much of anything.

Before he knows it, sleep pulls him under once more. He dreams of hospitals.

 

He’s awoken by a soft knocking on his door. It opens, and in steps Craig. 

“It’s time for breakfast,” The sheriff tells him. 

Evan follows him without a word. They walk through the Center, down to the mass of tents. Craig takes him to a large tent in the middle of everything; it’s a mess hall or sorts. 

One side is occupied with a line of tables and peggies serving food, the rest of the tent is just picnic tables and happily eating peggies. 

“Sit down,” Craig points to the only empty table. It’s situated in the far corner. 

Evan makes his way to it, feeling the eyes of every peggie under the tent on his back. He doesn’t look back, just shrinking under their gazes. He sits down with his back to them, eyes on the table. 

Thankfully, Craig appears a moment later with two plates of food. He sets one down in front of Evan, sitting across from him and digging in himself. 

It’s a simple breakfast - eggs, bacon, some other kind of meat, and an apple. Evan pokes the mystery meat with his fork, glancing up at the sheriff for an explanation. 

“It’s deer,” Craig tells him through a mouthful of bacon. “Hunting parties go out every other day.” 

Evan eats it all, saving the apple for last. He isn’t going to pass up any meal here; he doesn’t know how long he’s a prisoner. He just hopes his friends don’t try and get him back, if they ever know where he is. 

If Tyler doesn’t know where the Wolf’s Den, do the Whitetail’s know where the Soldier’s base is? They have to, right? 

After breakfast, Craig takes him back to his room. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just doing what I’m told,” Craig says to him as they go up the stairs. “I really don’t know anything else, but you’re to stay in your room for now. I’m sorry.” 

Evan gives him a small smile. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologize.” 

“I’m sor- yeah. Bye.”

Evan lies back down on the bed, pondering what the fuck to do next. Should he listen to Craig, and stay in the room? Should he break the rules and explore, maybe find something that can help the Whitetails?”

In the end, he decides to go ahead and break the rules. In no way in hell is he going to stay in this tiny ass room for however long he’s going to be here. 

Evan goes to the door, cracking it open and peering out to make sure the hallway is empty. Ensuring that it is, he steps out. 

He’s careful to stay close to the walls to keep the wooden floors from squeaking, and heads towards the stairs. 

Unfortunately, he has to pass by Tyler’s room to get to them. He has no idea where the man himself is, which is probably a big oversight when trying to sneak around, but it’s too late. 

Evan just walks extra quietly as he passes the double doors. He makes it down the stairs no problem. 

Then he has to decide if he wants to risk going outside, or staying within the building. He’d rather be outside, so he heads out the back of the Center.

There’s several little fenced-in areas, like the cages but not for humans. 

Wolves are in them, two or three in each. Each of them are white, with a red cross painted on their foreheads. 

Evan watches as the peggies tend to them, sometimes taking a group over to the courtyard to train them. 

As Evan’s watching them, a peggie notices him. Evan doesn’t see them staring at him. 

The peggie, a young man with dark hair, doesn’t raise the alarm. He merely brings a wolf to his side, and walks on over. 

As soon as Evan notices, he grimaces. He doesn’t move, there’s nowhere for him to go. He merely stands there and waits for the worst. 

The peggie, however, grins. “I’m not gonna rat you out,” He says, tone friendly and smile warm. “Wanna pet him? He’s real sweet, this one.” He pats the wolf next to him, who reaches up to his waist with his shoulders. 

He’s a big boy. Evan crouches down, offering his hand out slowly. The wolf sniffs it, then decides he’s okay. 

Evan grins as he starts to pet the wolf. “He have a name?” 

“The Judges aren’t technically supposed to have names, but our Herald’s named this one Kino. He’s one of our Herald’s favorites.” 

Evan freezes. He’s petting one of Tyler’s favorite wolves - favorite  _ Judges _ . He looks to the peggie, who’s staring behind him with an expression of horror. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Evan slowly turns around. 

Tyler’s standing in the doorway of the Center, watching the both of them.

“Fuck,” The peggie murmurs, and he sounds absolutely terrified. 

Evan says nothing, already thinking over a thousand things to say. 

Tyler slowly walks over to them, taking his damn time. 

The peggie takes a step back. 

Once Tyler nears them, he whistles once. The Judge, Kino, goes over to him, standing at his side. “What is this?” Tyler asks, voice hardened and back straight.

“I-i was just, just keeping an eye on him,” The peggie splutters, obviously about two seconds away from shitting his pants. 

“Keeping an eye on him instead of sounding the alarm when you realized a prisoner got free.” 

Evan takes a step closer, despite not feeling much better about the situation. “It isn’t his fault, I convinced him not to do it.” 

“Oh, so you’re weak-willed instead?” Tyler doesn’t look at Evan, just at the peggie. “Your conviction in the Prophet isn’t enough for you to do as you’re told?” 

The peggie whimpers, actually fucking whimpers. “No, not at all, please-” 

“Are you weak?” Tyler asks him, interrupting his pathetic attempt to explain. 

“N-no.” The peggie tries to stand taller, but he can’t. 

“Right,” Tyler sneers. “Perhaps I should leave you to the Judges you seem to love so much.”

“Tyler,” Evan says before he can help himself. He steps between the peggie and the soldier, staring the taller man down. “It wasn’t his fault.” 

Maybe Evan’s hallucinating, but he  _ swears _ he can see the corner of Tyler’s lips twitch, like he wants to smile for some reason. But his expression quickly steels once more until it’s completely unreadable. 

A moment passes, then two. 

The peggie doesn’t breathe, and Evan doesn’t move. 

Tyler jerks his head to the peggie. “You’re on cage-cleaning duty for the next two months. Now get out of my sight.” 

The peggie doesn’t hesitate to obey, damn near sprinting away from the Herald.

Tyler turns to Evan, eyes piercing through him as if trying to analyze every atom that makes him up. 

Evan shifts under the gaze, growing more and more uncomfortable with it. 

Eventually, Tyler looks away, to the Judge still by his side. He pets the wolf lightly, then looks back to Evan. “Follow me,” He commands, stern but not harsh. He starts walking further into the courtyard at a slow pace. 

Feeling as if he has no other option, Evan follows. Kino does too, keeping close to the soldier. 

“When you left, I enlisted in the Army,” Tyler tells him lowly. He doesn’t look at Evan, only their surroundings. “82nd Airborne All-Americans, hoo  _ rah _ .” Tyler lets out a heartless chuckle. “One night, there was an ambush.” 

Evan swallows roughly, figuring that this was another story he really didn’t want to hear. Especially not as they were traversing between a maze of more cages, all filled with Judges. There were so many, the wolf population had to be absolutely decimated. 

“Me and this guy Miller were separated from the unit. No food, no radio. Nearest base a good 200 clicks to the south so we just started walking.” Tyler looks south, to the open sky, with a gaze so blank he isn’t seeing the actual sky. He sees something else entirely. “By the third day, I knew we were lost. Day six, we ran out of water.” Tyler’s hand goes to the canteen strapped to his waist.

Evan looks anywhere but the soldier in front of him. 

“On the 7th day, Miller’s legs started going all wonky. He had already fucked  up during the ambush, but by then he couldn’t walk.” Tyler shakes his head. “By the 8th day, the wolves started closing in. I looked at Miller, and I knew we were as good as dead. I accepted that, but he didn’t. He told me to leave him behind. He told me I could make it back, he knew he wouldn’t.” 

Kino must sense the distress in the soldier; he shoves his head against Tyler’s hand, letting out a low whine. Tyler pets him a little, enough to placate the judge. 

“I didn’t want to let Miller die to the elements. All I had on was my knife, so I laid him on his back and slit his throat. I knew his body wouldn’t be retrieved, not with the war; so I grabbed his dogs, and then I kept on walking. I remember making it back to the base, then I blacked out. When I woke up, all I could see was the red of Miller’s blood.” Tyler looks to Evan, an empty smirk twisting his lips. “Guess it’s no mystery they said I wasn’t fit for service after that.” 

Evan blinks away the tears that were building. Crying is a sign of weakness, and he can’t be weak. Not here. He doesn’t even know why he wants to cry. “Why…” He trails off, fighting to make his voice steady. “Why’d you tell me that?” 

Tyler doesn’t answer him. He just walks over to a judge alone in a cage, towards the center of everything. 

The judge perks up when it sees Tyler near him, as does Kino. 

“This is my other favorite,” Tyler says, petting the second wolf. “His name’s Archie.” 

“Archie and Kino,” Evan murmurs. He gets closer to the soldier and the judges, but keeps some distance between them. 

He watches as Tyler puts Kino back in the cage. He does nothing as Tyler shoots him a quick glance, obviously wanting to say something. He stiffens as Tyler takes a step closer to him before thinking better of it and stepping back. 

“Why am I here?” Evan aks softly. He keeps his gaze focused on the dog tags dangling from Tyler’s neck. 

“Ohm wants you alive,” Tyler answers; he sounds unsure, as if that isn’t the only reason and he knows it. “I aim to keep you that way.” 

Evan forces himself to look up into those blue eyes he loves so dearly. “Can I go back to the room now?” 

Tyler nods. “C’mon.” He walks off, leaving Evan to follow.

They make it through the Center no problem; most of the peggies look at their Herald with reverence and Evan with mild distaste, but no one says anything to either of them. 

When Tyler opens Evan’s door for him, Evan finds himself wanting to invite Tyler to stay. But why would he? 

But Evan can’t shut the door. He just stands there, meeting Tyler’s gaze and wanting to say a million different things. 

“I’m sorry,” Evan whispers before he can stop himself. He expects Tyler to go into a blind rage like he did before. He expects more hatred, possibly even a punch to the face. 

But all he gets is Tyler giving him a very small, very sad smile. “I know.” He walks away without another word. 

Evan looks to his bed, and finds a copy of the Book of Ohm on his pillow.

With nothing else to do, Evan starts reading.

 

_ Red. Screaming. Burning. _

_ Heat licking up his back, threatening to yank his feet out from under him as he runs.  _

_ The sky is falling.  _

_ Bursts of color explode in the sky before falling to the ground in a shower of fire.  _

_ The world is burning. _

_ “You must choose the right path.”  _

_ He whirls around, looking for the source of the voice. But there’s only fire.  _

_ “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh.”  _

_ He collapses onto the ground, into the fire that burns and burns. The voice is all around him now.  _

_ “We can save you.”  _

_ “You must have faith.”  _

 

Evan jerks awake, wincing at the sound of something hitting the floor with a heavy thud. He looks over the edge of the bed to see the Book of Ohm, splayed open from the impact. 

He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself, but he just shudders. 

He can still hear the voice. It wasn’t a specific person’s it was just… a voice. A voice in a really bad dream. 

That’s all it was. A bad dream. 

So why does Evan still feel scared? 

He doesn’t like feeling scared. He shouldn’t be scared, not at this point in his life. 

Evan lies back down, intent on going back to sleep. 

He lies there for what feels like an hour, but is mostly likely less than five minutes. But he can’t shake the feeling of the dream. 

He gets up, and leaves his room. He’s halfway down the hallway before he even realizes what he’s doing. 

But he’s already at the set of double doors, and his hand is already knocking on them. Evan freezes, shame already darkening his cheeks. 

The door opens, there stands Tyler. He doesn’t look like he was sleeping either; he’s still wearing the clothes from earlier, and the bags under his eyes are much more noticeable. 

“What do you want?” Tyler asks, voice sharp with exhaustion. 

Evan says nothing. He drops his eyes to the floor, mentally berating himself for being so stupid.

“Ev, what are you doing here?” 

It’s the nickname that gets him. Evan looks up, into Tyler’s eyes that almost look concerned for him, and breaks. 

Evan crumples, barely being caught by Tyler before he can hit the floor. He starts sobbing in the soldier’s arms, barely aware of being taken inside the room and the door closing. 

He doesn’t notice that Tyler carries him over to the bed, gently sitting them both on it and wrapping his arms around him as he cries. 

Evan just buries his face into Tyler’s shoulder and fucking  _ sobs _ . He cries about all the things he hasn’t let himself cry about. 

At some point, Tyler’s hand makes its way into his hair, lightly scratching bitten-down nails across his scalp.

Evan sobs until he can’t, until his throat hurts and his eyes burn and he’s just so fucking tired. Until all he knows is just Tyler; his scent, his warmth, his hand in his hair. 

It’s a bliss he isn’t allowed to have. But he can’t find it within himself to stop, to pull away, to say no because it isn’t his place.

Tyler shifts back on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He pulls Evan towards him, so Evan’s sitting between his legs, Evan’s back to his chest. 

Evan lets himself be moved, he lets himself be engulfed in warmth when Tyler drags a blanket over their legs, he lets himself swim in the familiar comfort that is being in Tyler’s arms. 

He’s asleep before he realizes. He doesn’t dream again.

 

When Evan wakes up, he’s alone. That hurts more than it probably ought to. 

He doesn’t bother trying to snoop around the room or anything like that. He doesn’t even look at the desk crowded with papers and information that could probably benefit the Resistance a great deal. 

He just goes back to his room, feeling empty and confused and slightly ashamed. 

He waits until Craig shows up to bring him to the mess hall for food. He doesn’t see Tyler there. 

He stays in his room, switching between reading the Book of Ohm, looking out the window and pretending that he isn’t searching for a specific Soldier, and lying on his bed thinking about a specific Soldier he shouldn’t be thinking about. 

He doesn’t leave his room. He wants more than anything to go running into the Soldier’s arms, to wash away the past and start anew, to admit his feelings that are still painfully there after all these years. 

He still loves Tyler. 

But he can’t have Tyler. 

He doesn’t leave his room. 

Dinner is a quiet affair. Craig brings him to and from the mess hall, saying very little. 

Night falls, and Evan can’t sleep. 

He wants to go back to Tyler’s room, to sleep with Tyler’s arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe from the demons in the night. 

He doesn’t leave his room. 

Someone knocks on his door, quiet but persistent, almost crazed knocking.

Evan opens his door, and is immediately yanked out of the room. He raises his hand to punch them, only to realize it’s Craig. 

Craig shushes him, pressing his hand to Evan’s mouth a bit too forcefully. Craig looks all around them multiple times, then grabs Evan’s hand and tugs him down the hall. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Craig whispers, speaking so fast his words almost blur together. “And, and we’re gonna get out of here, okay? But you have to follow me, and you have to stay  _ close _ .” 

Evan nods along. He doesn’t want to set Craig off; he’s so wound-up, probably scared shitless of what they’re doing. 

Only then does Evan realize what’s happening, as they silently walk past Tyler’s room. Craig leads him down the stairs, onto the second floor, down another hallway and into a larger room. 

It looks like it used to be a conference room, now used for cult stuff. More papers all over the long table, radios against one wall, surveillance equipment along the other. The far wall is entirely glass, with a sliding glass door leading to a balcony that overlooks the courtyard. 

Craig brings Evan over to a wall with a cork board covered in photographs and what looks like data for some sort of experiment. 

“Something with you is off,” Craig sats, pointing avidly at several different things. “He didn’t put you through the Trials. He puts everyone through the Trials, until they die or get it right. He’s got it all planned out.” Craig points at a photograph of Kelly, where the words ‘kill on sight’ are written in red underneath. 

Craig mimes holding a shotgun, pointing at the floor. “One,” He points to another spot, “Two,” another spot, “Three. One. Two. three. One, two, three, one two three, onetwothree and then he’s got you,” Craig rushes his words with a snap of his fingers. “It becomes second nature, routine,” Craig points to his head. “He gets in your  _ head _ … and you don’t even know it.” 

Evan swallows. This is too much for him to process. 

Craig pulls him around the table, picks up a duffel bag, and shoves it into Evan’s arms. “Truck, there’s a truck, it’s gotta be there.” Craig goes through the sliding door, and points to a white truck that’s sitting across the courtyard. “I studied the route for weeks, it’s the only way out. You’ll be safe if you don’t-” 

He gets cut off by shouting from the other side of the Center. 

“They’re gone, find them!” A female voice shouts. 

Craig’s hands immediately go to his hair. “No, no, no, not yet!” He raises his own voice in distress; he walks in circles, and freezes when he sees the truck start to move. “No, NO!” He takes a deep breath, and looks at Evan. “Sorry,” He says, then gives Evan a hard shove. 

Evan topples over the balcony, landing painfully on the truck as it pulls out of the courtyard.

He hits his head on it,  and falls unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized how often my chapters end with Evan unconscious somehow... sorry, bro


	17. don't mess with hallucinogens, kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Scotty blow some stuff up. Evan has a talk with John, and falls deeper into the rabbit hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, there's only like five-ish chapters left to go. But I also suck at estimating things, so who knows.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy

When Evan wakes up, everything is calm. 

The world is quiet, but not silent. The sounds of nature buzz around him in a comforting haze. 

He forces his eyes open; the bright blue of the morning sky greets him. 

He sits up, careful of his aching body. 

He’s on the ground; soft grass and fallen leaves crunch underneath his boots as he stands. Taking a look around him, he realizes he has no idea where he is. 

He’s on the side of the road, as if the truck had thrown him off and kept driving. In one direction are the mountains; he doesn’t want to go in that direction any more. 

Evan decides to head south. Back to the river, back to the county jail, to the Cougars and Anthony.

He walks the road until he comes across another car designated as a “sinner’s” car. He’s beyond grateful that he found the car in such a short time. It’s almost suspicious how easy it was to find a car, but he won’t question a blessing..

The car is decent shape. He doesn’t think about its owner. He just gets in, hotwires, and goes. 

Evan turns on the radio. It’s on the peggie station; a song about Tyler is playing. He doesn’t turn it off. 

The county jail looms into his view, sitting atop the hill like a proud lookout. Evan drives right up to the closed gate, then leaves the car. 

The few people around him stare, mostly out of disbelief. Evan ignores them, heading into the jail and into the main room.

Anthony spots him first, and immediately gathers him into a too-tight hug. 

“Jesus fucking christ, you’re alive,” The Reistance leader murmurs. “We didn’t know what the fuck happened, we thought you were… you know.” 

Evan returns the hug, grateful for the contact. “Yeah, I know. But I’m alright.” 

Anthony pulls back, grasping Evan’s chin and examining him from head to toe. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, eyes narrowed. 

“As alright as I can be,” Evan replies honestly. 

“Do you wanna rest? Shit, man, you gotta be tired-” 

“I’d rather go do something,” Evan interrupts him. He doesn’t want to try and sleep, only to fail and get lost in his mind. He wants to go wreck something - or many somethings. “You got stuff that needs to be done?” 

Anthony eyes him for a second longer, then nods. “Yeah, there’s always shit to be done. You should probably radio around first, tell everyone you’re alive.” 

“Right, yeah. You got a radio I can use?”

 

That whole process takes about two hours. Evan radios everyone he can think of to tell them he made it out of Tyler’s compound, and each of them all interrogate him to hell and back about what happened. 

He doesn’t go into much detail about what happened at the compound. He doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to move on, to pretend like that never happened. Pretend like he doesn’t still feel things for Tyler he shouldn’t. 

He radios Simone last. She’s been holed up with Marcel and Scotty, keeping Peaches safe. 

She puts the two of them on the radio for a joint conversation, and Evan goes through his story for the millionth time. 

_ “So what now?”  _ Marcel asks when he’s finished. 

Evan shrugs before remembering that they can’t see him. “I’m gonna stick around the jail, do some stuff here.” 

_ “You need anyone with you besides to drop off Peaches?”  _ Simone asks, sounding as if she’s knows that the cougar is all he cares about right now. 

“I’m kinda in the mood to blow some shit up. Scotty, you in?” 

_ “Hell yeah, brother. Peaches an’ me will be there soon.” _

“Great.” Evan puts down the radio, already feeling a bit tired from having done nothing. He decides to go wait in his cell so he’s out of the way. 

Smitty’s personal Book of Ohm is still there. The Bliss flower is too. 

Evan pushes them a bit away from him and sits down on the edge of his bed. He stays like that for a while; not moving, not really thinking, just… existing. 

At some point, someone has pressed a granola bar into his hand. They even opened the wrapper for him. 

He doesn’t eat it.

He startles when a blur of orange fur barrels into his legs. Peaches chirps at him a couple times, and jumps up onto the bed so she can bash her head against his shoulder. 

Evan slings his arms around her, petting her while hugging her. Her fur feels softer, and smells clean. 

“Hey, man.” 

Evan smiles, seeing Scotty lean on the doorway to his cell. He pushes Peaches away so he can stand and give his friend a hug. 

Scotty doesn’t ask if he’s okay, which Evan is grateful for. He’s very far from okay, and doesn’t wanna talk about it. 

All Scotty asks is, “You ready to fuck some shit up?” 

“Hell yeah,” Evan replies. 

Peaches chirps in agreement as well, so the three of them get ready to go.

Anthony briefs them on the perfect place to blow into the sky: the water treatment plant that Smitty filled with Bliss. 

“Bliss, in all the fuckin’ water,” Anthony tells him with pure disgust. “You gotta get rid of it.” 

So off they go, piled in the same car that Evan drove here. 

During the drive, Scotty fills the silence by chatting idly about what’s been going on. He tells Evan about how he and Simone gave Peaches a bath.

“It was fucking terrible,” Scotty sums up the story. “Marcel walked in on us all covered in soap and Peaches wasn’t even in the shower anymore. We had to spray her with the shower head to get the soap out and she went and curled up on our bed right after.” 

Evan chuckles a good bit at that. He looks at Peaches sitting in the backseat, duo-colored eyes focused on the window.

“Thank you for cleaning her,” He says, and means it.

“I would say anytime, but fuck that. You can clean her next.”

 

When they pull up to the water treatment plant, they hike up a hill for a vantage point. Evan and Scotty crouch down while Peaches just lays down next to them. 

Scotty grabs for his own radio. “Anthony, we’re here.” 

_ “Do you have a good view, over.” _

Evan fights a chuckle at that. He thinks about Brian, about the whole ‘over’ thing. He hopes Brian and Nogla are doing alright.

“Yeah, so what’s the layout, over.” 

_ “You see the four pools? Those lead to two main pump rooms. You gotta get to those rooms and destroy the pumps. You can get to the rooms from the main building, or through the pools. Good luck, over and out.”  _

“Fucking easy,” Scotty mutters, clipping his radio back to his belt. He looks up at Evan, eyebrows raised. “You ready?” 

“Yep.” Evan had noticed that there are no alarms. That should  make clearing the place easier.

He takes out his pistol and knives. Scotty brings out a rifle with a silencer on it. Peaches yawns and stands up. 

 

Together, the three of them clear out the peggies in no time at all. It almost feels too easy, but that can’t be right. 

Peggies drop left and right until there’s none left. The facility is quiet, aside from the hum of the machinery.

Evan can’t ignore the feeling that this is somehow a trap of some kind. But there’s nothing he can do about, so he pushes that feeling down and goes over to Scotty. 

Scotty tries the door to the main building, and sighs when it’s very much locked.

“Can you blast it open?” Evan asks, watching as Peaches goes over to a body and starts chowing down. He wants to stop her, but he also doesn’t want to go anywhere near that mess.

“Not without blowing the entire building,” Scotty answers. “The doors are reinforced, the blast would rock the foundation.” 

“Isn’t that what we’re trying to do?” 

“The pump rooms aren’t in the main building part, and if we crumble the main building part, we can’t get to them.” 

Evan groans. “So we have to go through the fucking pools?” 

“Guess so. You can, uh, have the honors. I’ll keep watch.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” Evan drags himself over to the pool on the left. A metal walkway is stationed over it, with a control panel in the center of it.

There’s a big red button on the control panel labeled “Drain.” Evan shoots Scotty a quick glance, then pushes it. 

Machinery rumbles, the walkway rattles, and the gross-looking water in the pool starts to drain. As it empties, a huge pipe that has to lead to the main pump room is visible.

Evan just has to swim in the water that’s definitely contaminated with something. If the sickly sweet scent in the air is anything to go by, there’s an incredibly high dose of Bliss in the water. 

“Don’t drink any of it,” Scotty offers. Helpful as always. He also shoves an explosive and a detonator in Evan’s hands, and then shoves him towards the ladder that leads into the pool.

Evan sets everything he’s carrying down and starts to take off his shirt. 

“Dude, fuckin’ wait till later to strip,” Scotty says. 

Evan just glares at him as he ties his shirt around his nose and mouth, letting that special look of understanding flood Scotty’s face as he finally realizes what he’s doing. Evan picks the explosives back up, takes a deep breath, and then climbs into the empty pool. 

The stench of Bliss gets stronger and stronger, even through the shirt. But Evan does his best to not breathe it in and move quickly. 

The pipe he’s in is just tall enough that he barely has to crouch to walk through. Water still lingers on the bottom, splashing with his every step. 

A yellow light goes off, and the whir of machinery picks up. Water starts to creep up, lapping at Evan’s boots. 

He moves faster, fighting the rising water while trying not to fall on his face. 

By the time he reaches the pump room, the water’s barely at his waist. He can feel the Bliss seeping through his clothes and into his skin; it’s surrounding him in a cloud of sweet smells and sparkling lies. 

He practically jumps onto the safety ladder, yanking himself out of the water and onto the dry platforms. 

Evan takes a look around the pump room; it’s bare, the walls being lined with desks while the two pumps protrude through the room and over the pool of water, now having risen back to its regular level. 

Evan fumbles for his radio receiver, grateful that it didn’t get too wet. “Scotty, you there?” 

_ “I’m here, brother. You made it?”  _

“I’m in the room.” 

_ “Setup those explosives then, we ain’t got all day.”  _

Evan rolls his eyes, but does as he’s told. He setups an explosive on each pump, then backs away as far as he can. When he’s pressed to the corner with his back to the explosion, he presses the detonator. 

A wave of heat and pure force shove him further into the concrete wall. Debris goes flying, and alarms go off. 

Evan looks back to the now exploded pumps, pride warming his chest at the sight of the destruction. His ears are ringing a bit which sucks, but that’s just part of the job.

“Security system offline.” A feminine-sounding P.A. system announces. “Emergency detected. Evacuate the premises.” 

_ “You heard that?”  _

Evan grabs his receiver and heads to the door. “That mean the doors are open?” 

_ “Yep, I’m heading to the other pump room as we speak.”  _

“I’ll meet you outside.” Evan goes to reach for the door handle, but something makes him stop. 

He turns around and freezes when he sees Smitty standing there, looking at the wreckage with his arms crossed. 

Smitty shakes his head at the ruined pumps, then looks at Evan. His scowl morphs into a too-wide smile, his entire demeanor changing with it. “You can stop the water, but you can’t stop the Bliss.” He giggles, then disappears in a puff of green smoke. 

Evan blinks several times, but he can’t bring himself to look away. Smitty was  _ there _ , where it should be impossible for him to be. But it felt so real.

It’s only when the building shakes that he moves again. 

_ “I’m moving to the surface, where are you?” _

Evan fumbles for his receiver, shaken from his daze. “I’m moving,” he says. He doesn’t look back, he just leaves the room. He tries to ignore the feeling of dread creeping up on him, and makes his way back to the outside world.

Scotty’s waiting for him, leaning on some crates and looking towards the sky. Peaches barrels towards him, blood on her muzzle and eager to be pet.

As Evan approaches Scotty, he must be wearing his concern on his sleeve, for Scotty stands upright and cocks an eyebrow. 

“What’s up?” 

Evan looks back to the main building that leads to now-ruined pumps. He listens to the sounds around them; nothing but nature sings back to him. 

“Is it just me, or did that seem way too easy?” Evan asks, voice low and eyes darting around them. 

Scotty takes a moment to think about, slowly growing more aware and more cautious of their situation. “Okay, maybe it did. Why?” 

Evan shrugs. “No idea, but I don’t like it.” 

“You and me both, brother. Let’s head back to the jail.” 

The two of them make their way back to the car without another word, both too weary to try and make conversation.

Peaches gets in the back, and Evan gets in the passenger seat while Scotty takes the driverseat. Scotty barely makes it onto the road again before things start going wrong.

Sparkles fill Evan’s vision, and only now does he smell the sickly sweet scent that permeates every inch of the car. 

He tries to reach out for Scotty, but he misses entirely; his vision is pulsing, his head is getting fuzzier and fuzzier.

Scotty’s foot leaves the gas pedal, and the car swerves to a stop. He passes out against the wheel pressing down on the horn.

Evan collapses against the door, succumbing to the Bliss.

 

When Evan wakes up, he’s surrounded by green and warmth. He’s lying on the ground, on a soft bed of grass. 

A gentle set of hands helps him up. 

“Easy there, partner. You’re all good,” A warm voice greets him. 

Evan blinks, and there’s Smitty, holding his elbows to keep him steady and smiling at him with such friendliness, such familiarity, that it hurts. 

“Where’s Scotty and Peaches?” Evan asks, fighting the haze in his mind to care about his friend and pet.

Smitty just pats his arm. “They’re perfectly fine. None of you were hurt, you’re all good. After you blew up the water treatment plant, that is.” 

“You were poisoning the water,” Evan mumbles, focusing his gaze on the ground. It’s easier to look at. 

Smitty just keeps on smiling. He slips his hands into Evan’s, pulling him along as they walk, barefoot on the grass. “Don’t you understand what we’re trying to build here?” Smitty asks, voice soft. Like he isn’t mad, just disappointed. “I watch you run this way and that way, doing things and then doing things there. You’re running yourself into the ground, and for what?” He stops walking to look at Evan, to truly look at him. “For what?” 

Evan can only shrug. He knows there’s a million reasons he’s fighting against the Project, against this cult. But none of them come to mind. 

“Our people are at peace here,” Smitty says. “They want to be here. I know you doubt us, but this is the only way the story ends.” His voice hardens, taking an edge that doesn’t belong there. He looks to Evan, a warning clear in the glittering depths of his eyes even as they hide behind his red and blue sunglasses. 

Smitty’s smile is back in no time, and he’s pulling Evan somewhere. “I know your friends still doubt us, just like you do. They don’t understand. But he does.” Smitty raises his arm to his left. 

Evan looks, and can’t help but smile from relief as he sees John. Then a wave of guilt crashes into him. John, who’s been here since day one of this catastrophe. John, who he hasn’t even tried to help. John who… looks remarkably well. 

Smitty gently pushes Evan towards John, who’s sitting on a boat in the river. 

John stands to greet Evan, holding his hand out. “Hey, Ev,” He grins, a wide and bright grin. “C’mon, it’s okay.” 

Evan lets John help him into the boat. Once he’s sitting, John uses the oars to push off the shore, and then they’re drifting along the current. 

“It’s been a while,” John says, casually like nothing important has happened since the last time they saw each other. 

“John-” 

“I know you’re here to take me back,” John interrupts him, a small smile gracing his lips. Lips that Evan notices aren’t bitten. John always used to bite his lips out of anxiety.

“It’s okay, he knows,” John continues, occasionally using the oars to move the boat a little quicker along the river. “Everybody knows. You think I need to be rescued, right? But I don’t. I don’t wanna go back, like… ever.” 

Evan wants to say something. He just doesn’t know what. 

John doesn’t say something for a moment. He looks as if he’s gathering his thoughts, trying to sort through his own mind to pinpoint what exactly he wishes to say. He knows this time is precious, and that he shouldn’t waste it. 

“Evan… I’m happy,” John finally tells him. He pours every ounce of sincerity he can into his voice, to convey that he is well and truly  _ happy _ . “I like being here. I want to be here. You know me, man. I always struggled with finding satisfaction in life and all that shit. But here, with Smitty, I don’t have to fight to be happy. I just  _ am _ .” 

John takes a deep breath, and tilts his head at Evan. A small smile tugs at his lips, and he doesn’t try and hide it. “I love him, Ev. And I’m here with him, and it makes me look forward to waking up every day, just because I get to see him and be with him and help him. This kind of life, it isn’t all that bad. You could have it too, with your mountain man.” 

Evan looks away at the implication of Tyler. Immediately, a thousand images of a life they could have together float through his mind. Waking up in the early morning, making breakfast for each other, going for hikes together. 

All the nice things he doesn’t deserve to even think about. 

Evan shakes his head at John. “I can’t,” He whispers, voice unable to speak any louder. 

John reaches his hand to Evan’s knee. His palm is warm. “Yes, you can.” 

The boat jostles the two of them as it hits the shore. John doesn’t hesitate to hop out, looking back to Evan who hasn’t moved. 

“You could have a life with them, with us. One where you aren’t constantly fighting yourself, where you can be happy. And in the end, isn’t that all that matters?” With that, John walks away from the river, into the Bliss. 

_ You have to go after him! _ A voice in the back of Evan’s head tells him. 

He doesn’t whose voice it is, but he knows he should listen to it. He exits the boat, heading in the same direction John did. 

He trudges through high grass for a couple seconds before coming upon a path. The path leads to wrought iron gates, painted white, and left open. 

John is less than halfway to them, walking steadily and briskly.

Evan goes to move after him, but is stopped when a hand grabs his wrist, whirling him around. 

Smitty stands before him, eyes wide and glittering with… desperation?

“Please, leave him alone,” Smitty pleads, almost  _ begs _ , hanging onto Evan’s wrist in the same fashion he would when he was young, when they were both young. When Smitty was just a boy and Evan was hardly an adult. 

“He’s all I have,” Smitty adds in a broken whimper. “Please, take anything else but leave him.” 

Evan looks back to John, who’s almost to the damn gates. 

_ You have to go after him! _

He looks back to Smitty, who’s watching him with such intense eyes that’s it’s hard to meet his gaze and look away. 

“Fine,” Evan finds himself saying before he can stop himself. He always struggled with saying no to Smitty. “But keep him safe.” 

“I will,” Smitty promises. His entire demeanor changes within an instant; he’s back to being light and airy and giggly and happy. “I promise.” He throws his arms around Evan, engulfing him in a bear hug. 

Then he dissipates in an instant, leaving nothing behind except a cloud of green smoke that swirls around Evan, blocking out his vision entirely.

 

When the smoke clears, Evan finds himself somewhere else entirely.

He’s in the nursing unit of the jail, lying on an uncomfortable cot with several people hovering over him. 

Something heavy and warm is covering his legs; Evan forces his head up to look. 

Peaches stares back at him, head cocked and duo-colored eyes blinking slowly at him. She’s all curled up on his legs, like a normal cat but huge. She chirps at him when she sees he’s awake, and starts purring instantly. 

“You’re up.” 

Evan looks to the source of the voice, and sinks into the cot with relief when he sees it’s Scotty, sitting on a plastic chair to his left. He looks no worse for wear, either. Just a bit tired. 

“How long was I out?” Evan asks, looking to the other people around him. Anthony’s on his right, looking more than a little concerned. 

Chrissy is down by the foot of the cot, absent-mindedly petting Peaches. Evan didn’t expect to see her, but he’s more than happy that he has the chance.

“Not long. Few hours at the most,” Scotty tells him. “Still can’t believe they put Bliss in the fucking car.” He takes a deep breath, letting his irritation soften a bit. “What’d you see?” He asks, voice a bit more quiet.

“Just... nothing,” Evan answers. He knows it’s a weak answer at best, he knows that none of his friends believe him, but the last thing he wants is to recant his… dream? Can you even call that a dream? 

It felt so real. No dreams feel so real. Not even Bliss dreams.

Anthony pats his shoulder a bit. “It’s late, you should get some rest. Goodnight, Ev.” 

“‘Night.” Evan watches his friend leave, then he turns to Scotty and Chrissy. “You two alright?” 

“As alright as anyone else,” Chrissy says. She stretches her arms, sighing as her shoulders pop a couple times. “I’m callin’ it a night too, see you in the morning, boys.” 

“Goodnight, Chris,” Scotty says. 

“See you then,” Evan says.

When she closes the door behind her, Scotty glances at Evan with a bit of hesitation. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Evan tells him. 

“Then I won’t ask about it,” Scotty replies. “You need anything before I go to bed too?” 

Evan thinks for a moment, then nods. “There’s a book in my cell. Can you bring it to me?” 

Scotty nods, fetching the book in a matter of seconds. When he returns with it in his hands, he seems more than a little confused. He looks as if he doesn’t want to even touch the book, but he still hands it to Evan without a word.

Evan carefully takes the book, and holds it close to him.

“Thank you.” 

“No problem. Goodnight, Ev.” 

Evan nods, eyes already shut, Book of Ohm pressed to his chest.

When Scotty leaves, the only sounds in the room are Evan’s breathing and Peaches’ purring. 

Evan sends a prayer - the first in a good while - that leaving John behind was the right decision.

His dreams are filled with bittersweet memories of a time long since past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we're finally gonna see some more Delirious! I feel bad for not including him a lot, but he'll be back and pretty important soon enough


	18. i don't believe, i do care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious summons Evan to Fall's End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: gore, blood, etc. only a little bit of the chapter, but enough that it could potentially trigger someone
> 
> Yes, it's a bit of a jump in the plot but whatever, man. It be like that.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy

Evan awakes to a rather calm morning. There’s the typical buzz of people moving about the jail, easily ignorable. 

Feeling a bit cramped and sore, Evan decides to go on a walk. He nudges Peaches awake, and then heads out with her in tow. He manages to slip out without anyone seeing him; if he tries hard enough, he disappears into the background easily. 

The woods behind the jail are quite peaceful. Evan passes the hill where he’d had his first conversation with Smitty. Once again, he hopes that he made the right choice in leaving John with him. 

Evan’s barely ten minutes into his walk when his radio bursts with static. 

He doesn’t even reach the receiver before Delirious’ voice fills the air. 

_ “Your actions have consequences, Evan. You’ve been persistent in causing trouble for my brothers, in bringing sin back into their regions, and I aim to stop that. I’ve gathered all your friends here in Fall’s End to atone for your sins. You’re welcome to join us. After all, if it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t be in this mess. This is your last chance to say Yes. Don’t be late.” _

Evan’s already heading back to the jail before his radio falls silent once more. His skin is drained of all color, his face expressionless. 

He heads straight for the nearest vehicle. He sidesteps a member of the Resistance to get to it, utterly ignoring them as they apologize. He just opens the backseat door for Peaches to get it, then gets in the driver’s seat. 

He’s pulling out of the jail long before he even realizes what’s going on.

 

A cheerful song plays over the radio. It’s got a quick tempo, and a happy melody. The lyrics praise Jon with such a cheerful harmony that Evan finds himself humming along as he speeds twenty miles over the limit.

_ Oh Jon! _

_ Bold and brave. _

_ He’s finding us a family, he’s teaching us the faith. _

_ Oh Jon! _

_ Keep us safe. _

_ He’s gonna march us right through Eden’s Gate. _

Evan feels sick listening to the song, but he doesn’t turn it off. He just presses the gas pedal down a bit more. The scenery outside passes in a blur; he barely catches the small blue sign signaling his entry to the Valley.

He serves to avoid some sort of roadkill, his tires screeching a little with the effort. Peaches growls in the back of the car - she doesn’t appreciate being jostled - but otherwise does nothing.

His radio bursts with static, startling him enough to jerk the wheel. Peaches makes her dissent known with his driving, but he doesn’t care.

_ “Evan, where the fuck are you going?”  _

Evan blindly grabs for his receiver, keeping his eyes on the road. “Fall’s End. Delirious has our friends.” 

There’s silence for a moment. Evan almost puts down the receiver, until the sound of the button on the other end being pushed sounds through the static.  _ “Are you sure you don’t want backup?”  _

“Yes, Anthony, I’m sure.” 

_ “You shouldn’t go in alone.”  _

“Delirious is waiting for me and only me,” Evan reminds him. “I don’t know who all he’s taken, but I, I don’t want to add you to that list.” 

_ “Just… come back alive.”  _

“I’ll try my best.” Evan throws his receiver down. 

Delirious’ message keeps replaying in Evan’s mind, sending shudders down his spine.

Especially the end of it. Delirious sounded so  _ cold _ as he told Evan to not be late.

Evan holds down the gas pedal just a bit more. He can see Fall’s End coming up a good ways down the road. 

And even from a distance he can tell something’s horribly wrong.

 

Evan holds his arm out against Peaches, then slams his foot onto the brake. The car screeches to a stop just at the edge of Fall’s End.

He gets out of the car, but keeps Peaches in it. He doesn’t want her in the middle of what’s about to go down, whatever that may be.

The church bells are ringing. It’s the only sound for miles. Every shop is empty, every door is left open. There’s no one around. 

There are a few Eden’s Gate trucks parked in front of the church at the other end of the town.

As Evan nears it, a sense of foreboding creeps up his spine. The scene before him makes him want to turn and  _ sprint _ , but he can’t.

The sign next to the church has been spray-painted so the only word you can read is ‘Atonement’ in ugly red letts.

There’s a red carpet leading from the road up to the entrance of the church. White flower petals litter the ground all around it. A white wooden arch has been placed just before the few steps leading up to the door. The wooden arch is decorated with more flowers and white ribbon.

It would remind Evan of a wedding if it weren’t for the fucking dead crows stapled to the wall of the church, surrounding the double doors. 

The entire scene is too much for Evan. It’s both something he would expect from Delirious and yet it’s so fucking gross that he wants to puke.

Evan walks up the red carpet, and opens the door.

The second he tries to step inside the church, the butt of a rifle is slammed into the side of his head, and he drops.

 

When Evan wakes up again, he’s met with a pounding headache, a peggie standing over him with their rifle damn-near pressed to his forehead, and an awful buzzing in his ears. 

He forces his head up, and there’s Delirious, practically sitting on him, tattoo gun in hand and pressed to his chest. 

He startles, and grabs Delirious’ shoulder. 

Delirious pins him down to the floor, looking pissed off. “Hold still,” He demands, eyes burning with impatience. “I’m almost done, so don’t move.” 

Evan releases his shoulder, letting himself collapse back onto the floor. He looks at Delirious as he continues to tattoo his chest; the Baptist’s mask is gone, but he’s got the clown paint on, lines clean and colors bright.

“You… were causing an awful lot of trouble for my brothers,” Delirious says. His concentration is mainly focused on the tattoo, making his sentences unfocused but no less packed with barely-concealed dislike. “I decided to step in. You can’t hide from me anymore, not in the mountains, and not by the river.” 

He stops talking to gaze at his work. Deeming it finished, he throws down the tattoo gun with a flourish, and stands up. He begins to walk backward, framing Evan with his hands.

As Delirious backs away, Evan can finally see the scene laid out before him. The church is crammed with people. Peggies aiming guns at his friends. Brian, Nogla, and Brock are all there, all looking some measure of pissed off. Nogla’s chest is covered with blood-soaked gauze. Brock’s chest is tattooed, “GREED” disfiguring his chest in huge, black letters.

Evan’s own chest pounds with his heartbeat and with the sting of the tattoo.

“Perfect,” Delirious says. “Let’s begin!” He takes a Book of Ohm from the peggie offering it to him and heads to the altar.

The peggie behind Evan picks him up and shoves him forward until he’s surrounded by his friends.

Nogla is forced to stand in front of them; he’s holding a Bible, one that must be his own. The cover is worn yet loved, the golden cross on the cover standing out from the dark leather.

“I thought some friendly faces might make your atonement easier,” Delirious tells Evan as he stands behind Nogla, hand on the taller man’s shoulder. 

Delirious slams the Bible out of Nogla’s hands, and replaces it with the Book of Ohm. Nogla clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say anything.

Delirious points Nogla towards Brock, who’s been positioned to Evan’s right. Brian is on his right, looking worse for wear.

Hiss chest is wrapped in bandages, and his breathing is labored. At Evan’s questioning glance, he jerks his head to the far wall of the church.

Behind the altar, a piece of something glistening crimson is stapled to the wall. Evan really hopes that it isn’t Brian’s fucking skin, but he’s pretty sure it is.

He wonders what Brian’s sin was.

He looks back to his left, to see Delirious and Nogla standing before Brock.

“Our devoted,” Delirious begins, clearing wanting Nogla to repeat after him. When he doesn’t, the peggie holding a gun to him pokes him in the head with said weapon. Delirious waits a second, then tries again. “We are gathered here to bear witness,” He says with a clear warning underlining his voice. When Nogla remains silent, he sighs and steps back.

The peggie pistol whips Nogla, sending him to the ground. 

Evan rushes at Delirious, as do Brock and Brian.

“You bastard!” Brian shouts, only to be struck by another peggie.

The one behind Evan kicks the back of his knee, and he hits the floor with a harsh thud.

The only other sound in the room is Delirious’ haunting laughter; it echoes off the high walls, settling in the corners of Evan’s mind as he picks himself back up.

“Let’s try that again!” Delirious says with a smile, stifling his laughter. He grabs Nogla’s shoulder, forcing the taller man to face Brock once more.

“Our devoted, we are gathered here to bear witness.” 

Nogla repeats the words, fighting to keep vitriol out of them as best as he can. 

“To those willing to atone for their sins.” 

Nogla repeats. 

“Will you, Brock Barrus, place your hand upon the Book of Ohm?” 

Nogla starts to repeat, but Brock interrupts. 

“Screw that, I’m never giving into that psychopath!” Brock says, meeting Delirious’ gaze with fire in his eyes.

Delirious shoves Nogla aside, facing Brock for himself. “There it is. Greed.” Delirious raises his hands to outline the sin tattooed on Brock’s chest. “Always thinking of yourself.” He clicks his tongue, then reaches his hands to Brock’s shoulders. He brings the other man in, and whispers something in his ears. 

Evan watches the color drain from Brock’s face. He watches Brock glance wildly at him, then at Brian and then at Nogla. He watches the fight leave Brock, dissipating into the air around them.

Delirious pulls back, and smiles like he knows he just won that struggle. “Brock?” 

“Yes,” Brock whispers. He glances at Evan once more, desperation plain in his eyes. “Yes, I will atone.” 

The grin Delirious flashes them all sends shudders down Evan’s spine. There’s a flash of metal - Delirious pulls out a knife, and moves closer to Brock. 

The peggie behind Brock forces him to the ground, with Delirius crouching over him, blocking him from everyone’s sight.

“Stop!” Brian shouts, straining against the peggie holding his arms behind his back. 

Brock screams and writhes underneath Delirious. He kicks his legs, he grabs at Delirious only for two peggies’ boots pin his wrists to the floor.

Evan tries to look away, but the cultist behind him gives him a harsh nudge with their pistol, warning him against it.

Then Delirious stands with a yell, scrap of something covered in crimson held high in his blood-covered hands. “This is the power of yes! The power to take away your sin!” He shouts as he goes over to the wall, stapling the scrap of skin to it. His hands leave smears against the walls, further desecrating them. 

Delirious rinses his hands in a bowl of water placed on the podium, and the two peggies that were standing over Brock are now dressing his wound. 

Even when they’re done, Brock stays on the ground, curled up on his side, arms caged around his chest to protect it. He’s lying in a pool of his own blood, but he doesn’t want to move.

Delirious finishes cleaning his hands, and comes back over. He grabs Nogla’s shoulder, and turns to face Evan. 

“Will you, Evan Fong, place your hand upon the Book of Ohm.” 

Nogla repeats the phrase, looking Evan in the eye with a dead gaze. 

“And renounce your sins and admit your transgressions.” 

Once Nogla says the last bit, he steps forward, on his accord. “Say yes,” He pleads, thumbing the cover of the Bible with enough purpose to alert Evan to something. 

“It’s just one word,” Delirious adds. 

Evan raises his hand to place it on the Bible. His hand is shaking pretty badly; he ignores it as he reaches forward.

The next few events all happen in a flash.

Nogla flips open the cover. Something metal is stashed inside the cut-out pages; Evan grabs it, only realizing it’s gun a second too late. 

A peggie, probably the one directly behind him, shouts “GUN!”

The cultist rushes Evan as he shoots at Delirious, making him miss wildly. He succeeds in deafening everyone though.

Delirious is rushed out the church with two peggies serving as literal bodyguards.

Evan turns to try and follow them, but a peggie blocks his path.

“Get Jon to his ranch!” One of them orders. 

The peggie standing in front of Evan gets knocked to the ground by Nogla. 

Evan rushes to pick up their weapon and sprints outside, where more peggies are waiting for them. He shoots the ones he can see, ducking inside the church entrance for cover.

He’s dimly aware of Brian covering the other side of the door. Together, they take out the peggies surrounding the church with relative ease. 

Evan looks behind him, and sees Nogla crouching over Brock, armed and ready to protect him. 

When Nogla sees Evan looking at him, he points out the door. “Go get Jon an’ fuckin’ finish this!” He barks. 

Brian grabs Evan’s arm, yanking him out the door and towards one of the peggie trucks. They end up taking one with a mounted gun; Brian claims the driver seat while Evan stands behind the gun.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Brian says as he gets the truck started. He slams his foot onto the gas; the tires screech before they get traction, and then they’re off, flying down the street. As he drives, he grabs the radio, tuning it to Simone’s station and yelling into it “We’re heading to Jon’s ranch, send backup!” 

_ We’re gonna need it _ , Evan thinks to himself. The wind brings tears to his eyes, but he can still see the peggie trucks pulling up onto the street. 

He lets the mounted gun loose on their tires. He doesn’t want to kill them - he’s tired of all the death. He just wants them out of the fucking way. 

When their tires are flat, the trucks go swerving off the road. 

“More in front!” Brian yells unhelpfully. 

Evan swivels around, and sees a couple peggies on ATV’s pulling up. He also sees a navy blue pick-up truck that rams into one of the ATV’s, sending it very much off the road. 

He sees Simone poke her head out the driver’s window, shouting something at them as she rights her truck to stay on the road. 

Chrissy is in the bed of the pick-up, rifle in hand and several small things that look like grenades in a crate beside her

Evan’s never been happier to see them. 

They take out the other four-wheelers in no time. 

Only for fucking air support to come in, spraying them all in a torrent of bullets. Evan follows the plane the best he can with his gun while Chrissy takes out more trucks that are trying to block them off. 

The plane comes in for another strafe and Evan takes his chance. He fires at what he hopes is the fuel tank, and sure enough, a torrent of black smoke and flames start to poke out from the belly of the plane.

It goes down over to his right, exploding a moment later. 

Evan sees the smaller version of the white “Yes” sign that leads to the road to Jon’s ranch. 

“That’s Jon’s plane, he’s getting away!” Brian yells, pointing at a black plane flying over them. He urges the truck forward quicker, desperate to catch that bastard. 

They pull up to Jon’s ranch, and Brian swerves the truck right up to the hangar. “Grab one of the planes, it’s your only shot!” 

“I’ve flown once in my fucking life!” Evan protests. He jumps off the truck and heads for the only other plane in the hanger however. 

Simone’s right behind him, and thank god the plane is for two people so she can come with him. She places her hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. Determination is set in her gaze, giving an edge to her voice as she says, “We can fucking do this.” 

Evan nods. Her words give him the confidence he needs to get into the pilot’s seat while Simone climbs into the seat behind him. They put on their headsets and Evan switches on the plane, quickly finding all the controls he needs and not even bothering to fuck with anything else. 

He steers the plane out the hangar and onto the runway. He takes a deep breath, and begins to lift off. 

They make it into the air no problem, and Evan is forever grateful that Brock had given him flying lessons all those years ago. At least they stand a chance in taking Delirious down. 

The thought makes Evan’s stomach curl; he’s sick of death, he’s sick of killing. 

But now is not the time to have a crisis, not when he’s in the fucking air with someone else relying on him to not kill them both. 

_ “What are you doing?”  _ Delirious’ shrill voice screeches through the radio, sending shockwaves down Evan’s spine.  _ “Ohm gave you a chance for salvation and you threw it away! Look at what you’ve done, look at the WRATH you have wrought!” _

Evan does his best to ignore Delirious, focusing on just catching up with him. He can see his plane, flying ahead. 

Then Delirious’ plane doubles back, coming in suspiciously close. Then he’s firing his own machine guns; Evan yanks the yoke to avoid the onslaught. 

He’s gotten into a fucking dogfight with an experienced pilot when he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. And he doesn’t really feel like Delirious is willing to not kill him anymore. 

_ “Hey, man,”  _ Angelic in every way, Brock’s voice comes through the radio.  _ “I’m in rough shape, but I can still fly if you need me.”  _

“Yes, we need you!” Simone answers before Evan can say anything. She’s doing her best to shoot down Delirious’ plane, but the fucker bobs and weaves so well that she can’t keep up. 

“Don’t kill him!” Evan tells her and Brock. “We want him alive!” 

“We do?” Simone shouts, disbelief clear in her voice. 

Evan pulls the plane up to avoid another rain of bullets, nodding even though she’s focused on shooting down a plane. “We do.” 

_ “Roger that,”  _ Brock says, even though he also sounds like he wants to very much put Delirious into the ground. 

_ “You think keeping me alive won’t erase your sins?”  _ Delirious asks, taunting them all as he pulls a corkscrew out of nowhere.  _ “Brock, have you already forgotten what I told you?”  _

_ “Screw you, you’re a demon!”  _ Brock’s panicked voice is barely audible over the roar of his own plane. 

Evan can see that yellow abomination of an aircraft flying closer and closer, shooting its own torrent of bullets at Delirious. 

With Brock working to distract him, Evan manages to maneuver his plane so Simone can get some good shots at the wings of Delirious’ plane.

Then Delirious catches onto what they’re doing, and starts aiming for Evan and Simone. 

He lands some shots, but Evan presses on. Brock rains a torrent onto the underside of Delirious’ plane, and that seals the deal. 

_ “Agh, no, NO! I’m heading down!”  _ Delirious sounds both pissed and even a little scared. Evan watches as he abandons his plane, and screams internally because that’s not fucking safe. 

Then Delirious lets loose a parachute, and Evan catches onto his scheme. He spots a parachute in the cockpit, and puts it on. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Simone asks, leaning forward with wide eyes. 

“Going after him,” Evan answers her. “Take the controls, get Brock to safety.” He flies the plane up a bit higher, then jumps out too. 

He pulls the cord, and his parachute opens up. He watches the plane he had been flying going down, down, down… then back up. Simone’s at the pilot’s seat, flying the plane. 

Evan focuses on Delirious now, aiming his parachute to follow the other. 

He realizes Delirious is heading for his bunker. He can’t let him get to it, he’d be outnumbered there. 

Evan brings his parachute to the ground as quick as he can; it’s a rough landing, harsh enough to send him stumbling to the ground, but he picks himself up and keeps going. 

They’ve both landed at the base of the hill the bunker is on. Evan doesn’t plan on letting Delirious get to the top. 

All he has on him is a pistol, so he has to make every shot count. Thankfully, Delirious doesn’t seem to be in much better condition than he is; he isn’t even trying to be quiet anymore. He’s crashing through the trees, leaving an obvious trail behind him. 

Like he’s daring Evan to catch him.

Evan chases after him, sprinting when it’s clear, waiting and listening when he needs to. The pistol is heavy in his hands; he almost drops it a couple times. 

Then, he finds the perfect chance to take a shot. 

So he does. 

Delirious yells out, tripping and falling to the ground. The bullet landed square in his leg, incapacitating him from running any further. 

Evan catches up to him where he fell in a small clearing. 

Delirious is clutching his leg, breathing labored and sweat shining on his face, making his clown makeup run in colorful streaks. He looks up as Evan approaches him, face twisted in an expression of pure anger. He says nothing, not trusting himself to speak. 

Evan freezes. He didn’t expect to get this far; now’s his chance to either the man in front of him, or spare him. 

Either way, Evan needs the key to his bunker, which is tied around Delirious’ neck. Evan inches forward, intent on figuring out a plan while he retrieves that damn key. He needs to free the people locked away in that bunker, he needs to free Luke. 

Just when he’s barely a foot away, when he reaches out his hand to take the key, Delirious snaps into action; he grabs Evan’s hands, deathly-tight grip around his wrist. 

“What if Ohm is right?” Delirious asks, voice hardened and gaze piercing. “Did you ever stop to think about that?” His words are slow, deliberate. “Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he isn’t. Look around you, look at what the fuck is happening.” He takes a moment to breathe, taking several shallow breaths. 

“You think you’re saving people, but they were already safe. We had  _ a plan _ . You don’t understand,” He mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t  _ believe _ , you don’t CARE!” He jerks Evan’s hand, causing the cord to snap. The key is free, now safely in Evan’s hand as Delirious shoves him away. “Just kill me now, and may God have mercy on our souls.”

Evan doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what the hell to say to that. He just stares at Delirious, who grows more and more irritated. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, sounding more confused than anything. “I’ll make it easy for you.” He takes the pistol Evan was holding, and chambers a bullet. He puts the gun back in Evan’s hand, then positions it so Evan’s holding the gun to his head. Delirious places Evan’s finger over the trigger, and presses the cold metal right to his skin. 

“Pull the trigger,” Delirious whispers. “Make it all go away.” 

Suddenly, everything that’s happening catches up with Evan. He blinks back into reality. He chucks the gun off to the side, backing away from Delirious in shock. He was about to do it; he was about to shoot Delirious in the fucking head. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Delirious asks again. 

“Saving your life, Jonathan.” Evan grabs his radio, thankful it’s survived so far. He tunes it to a specific station, and holds the receiver. “Marcel, Scotty? Pick up, someone?” 

_ “Dude, we heard what happened, what the fuck is going? Are you alright? What about Delirious?” _ Marcel’s barrage of questions washes over Evan, merely static in his mind.

“I’m at the base of the hill leading up to his Gate. Where’s the nearest bunker?” 

_ “What the fuck, why do you need to know that?”  _

“I’ll explain later, just please, where is it?” 

_ “Uh, hold on.”  _ There’s the sound of rummaging papers, and Marcel murmuring to someone, Scotty most likely.  _ “A few hundred yards to the east, it was owned by the Winston family. They’re dead now, I’m sure you can guess how.”  _

“Thank you.” Evan shuts off his radio for the time being. He turns back to Delirious, who’s been watching him intently. 

“What are you doing?” He asks once again. 

“Saving your life,” Evan replies once again. He goes over to Delirious and scoops him up into his arms. He expects a lot more resistance, but he’s met with almost none. 

Perhaps Delirious is exhausted. Maybe he’s just accepting his fate. Either way, Evan doesn’t fight this. He just leaves, walking down the hill and then to the east. 

Jonathan presses his face into Evan’s neck, just like he would do when they were younger. 

Evan’s thrown back to those times, when he would carry little Jonathan around places. Jonathan would always trust Evan, and would never look where they were going. He trusted the older man enough to know that he wouldn’t lead them to danger or anything. 

Being in Evan’s arms meant being safe. 

“Why are you doing this?” Jonathan asks, yanking Evan back to the present. “Why save me?” 

“You were wrong,” Evan murmurs, not missing the way Jon’s grip around his neck tightens, securing him further. “I do care.” 

“Not about the cause,” Jonathan reminds him. “You don’t give a shit about the Collapse, about God warning us all.” 

“But I care about you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but the song "Oh John" from the actual game is such a bop


	19. search and rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jon safely sequestered away, Evan goes to save Luke from the Gate to Eden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some gore in this chapter, in just a few places but be aware of that if it bothers you!
> 
> Also, I struggled big time with writing this chapter, and I apologize if the quality reflects that. Nonetheless, I hope y'all enjoy!

Evan doesn’t really remember the journey to the bunker. 

He remembers walking for what felt like days, but was only an hour or two. The sun had fallen, night shrouding the two of them by the time they arrived at the Winston property. 

The family had occupied a small cabin, with their underground bunker being towards the edge of their property, bordering a forest. 

Evan lifts the door, and almost cries at the sight of stairs. 

On one hand, he’s beyond grateful he doesn’t have to descend a ladder while carrying an unconscious Jonathan. 

On the other hand… stairs.

But he sucks it up and goes down them. A shelf near the bottom of the stairs contains a flashlight, which Evan is quick to turn on. 

The beam is bright, and the bunker is small. Only about three rooms, all connected by a short hallway.

The room at the far end must’ve been the bedroom - several bunk beds line the walls. Evan deposits Jonathan onto one of them, his muscles screaming with relief at the loss of the extra weight.

Then Evan fumbles for a light - a cord hanging from the ceiling illuminates an old, yellow bulb. 

The room they’re in is small, obviously meant to be a bedroom - shitty cots and a wardrobe are pretty much the only pieces of furniture in it. He searches the wardrobe, and finds a belt. 

He uses the belt to secure Jonathan’s hands together - just in case he awakens and Evan isn’t prepared for it. He remembers how volatile Jon could be. He was the essence of unpredictability as a kid. He doubts much has changed now.

He makes sure Jonathan is in a comfortable position, then searches the bunker for anything he can use to help the wounded man. 

Thankfully, the bunker has everything they need. 

Running water, canned food, even fresh clothes.

It’s a miracle. Evan snorts at the thought.

He snags the first aid kit from the bathroom, and goes back to his unconscious… captive?

“Guess you’re my prisoner this time,” Evan murmurs, despite knowing he won’t get a response.

He sits on the edge of the bed, then pauses. 

He doesn’t know how to treat a gunshot wound. 

He grabs for his radio, calling the first person he knows can help. 

“Kelly, come in, Kelly?” 

Her response comes in immediately:  _ “Evan, what the fuck is going on? We heard about the church, thank God you’re alive, but what about Delirious? What’s happening?”  _

“How do you treat a gunshot wound?” Evan asks calmly, turning the volume on the radio down before opening up the first aid kit and taking stock of the contents.

Sterilized needles, thread, gauze, minor pain killers, bandages, the usual stuff. He hopes that’s going to be enough.

_ “Gunsho- who the fuck was shot? Evan, were you shot? You should be getting real help, what’s going-”  _

“How do you treat a gunshot wound?” Evan repeats, a bit more firmly this time.

_ “Who was shot?” _ Kelly asks, just as firm. 

“I’ll tell you later, now how-” 

_ “Tell me now, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t you, who was shot?” _

“Kelly,” Evan takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now. “I’ll tell you later, I promise, but right now I need you trust me and tell me how to treat a fucking gunshot wound.” 

Maybe she heard the exhaustion in his voice, maybe she realized that he would stand his ground on this, or maybe she was just tired herself, but Kelly relented with a heavy sigh. 

_ “Keep it elevated if you can, to keep the swelling down. Put pressure on it, get the bullet out if you can without damaging the surrounding area too much. Antibiotics if there are any, painkillers too. Clean and bandage. Professional medical care would be nice too, if you could get them over to me I could help.”  _

“Thank you, Kells,” Evan says, and he means it. He should bring her something, as a thanks for dealing with him. He should bring all his friends something for dealing with him. “I have to go, I’ll radio you later.” 

_ “You better. Goodluck, Ev.”  _

Evan throws down the radio, and gets to work on Jonathan’s leg. Thankfully, it’s the only bullet that actually landed. 

Even more thankfully, it didn’t shatter in his leg. Using the tweezers, Evan digs the bullet out and does his best to not vomit. He really isn’t trained for this.

When he starts wrapping the wound, Jonathan wakes up. It’s a slow process of regaining consciousness, but when he finally does, he jerks up.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” He shrieks, yanking his body as far away from Evan as he can manage. 

“Stop moving!” Evan demands before he can help it, hands going to his hair to keep from putting them on the other man.

Something about his voice makes Jon flinch, sending a tsunami of guilt that crashes into Evan. He didn’t even fucking think about that - Jon probably gets ordered around all the damn time, all his life. 

“Sorry, just… your wounds, you shouldn’t move too much,” Evan says, making his voice softer, more comforting. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Jonathan draws in on himself, curling his non-wounded leg up towards him, leaving the other stretched out where it rests on a pillow. “How the fuck did I get here?” 

“I carried you, we’re in a bunker.” 

“Where?”

“Near your gate.” 

“Where exactly?” 

Evan shrugs. “Can’t remember.” He very vaguely recalls radioing Marcel, and walking somewhere with Jon in his arms. But that’s about it. 

Even now, the scene at the church feels both like it happened hours ago - which it did - and like it happened months ago. 

Evan’s attention is snapped back into reality by Jon’s tattooed hand reaching for his radio, slowly as if he wouldn’t notice.

Evan smacks the radio, sending it flying across the room. 

“What the fuck?” Jonathan whines, glaring at Evan with fire in his eyes. “Why?” 

“You know why.”

Delirious flexes his arms, testing the strength of the belt around his wrists. When it holds up, he slumps against the near-flat pillow. He eyes Evan with a gaze of predator, despite his disadvantage. His eyes are scrutinizing, yet also tired. 

“What now?” He asks with the air of a petulant child. He rubs his cheek against his shoulder; what’s left of his face paint rubs onto his shirt, ugly white splotches on dark fabric.

“I don’t know,” Evan murmurs, because he doesn’t. “I need to get Luke, but-” 

“My men will shoot you on sight,” Delirious interrupts. “Their Herald is missing, possibly dead. You fucked up.” 

“There’s gotta be a way.” 

“A way to what?” 

Evan shrugs. “Avoid killing every last peggie in that bunker.” 

Delirious wrinkles his nose. “Peggies, disgusting word. They’re faithful, they’re loyal. They do not deserve to die for your sins, you’re right about that. But why are you quitting now? Think of all the lives you’ve taken already, think of those you’ve affected with the wrath you’ve wrought. Why stop now?” His question sounds genuine, but underlined with an accusatory tone.

Evan just shrugs again, eyes never leaving the worn blanket covering the cot. It’s ragged with use, with love. It’s soft, though it should be rough. A blanket handed down in a family that now lies dead.

“You’ve killed so many, harmed countless more, and yet now is when you attempt to find salvation? When I’ve tried to give it to you so many fucking times, now is when you try to act like you deserve it?” Delirious’ words bite, deeper and more painful than they probably should.

When Evan still says nothing, he leans forward as much as his leg will allow him. He grabs onto Evan’s shoulder with both hands, dragging the deputy closer to him. 

“You don’t deserve him,” Jonathan whispers. “He may have forgiven you, but I never will.” 

He shoves Evan away with more force than he should be capable of right now, almost sending the deputy clean off the bed. 

But he remains there. Eyes brimming with tears, gaze fixed on the floor. Mind a torrent of thoughts. 

Tyler forgave him? Why? What has he done to deserve it? 

Evan shakes his head; he can’t think about that now. He needs to focus on the gate, on getting Luke out of there. 

“So you aren’t going to help me save your followers?” Evan asks, forcing his voice to sound casual though it’s obvious that it’s fake. 

The change in topic must startle Jonathan; his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly. But then it’s gone, and his stoic facade is back. “You’ll just kill them in the end, it’s what you do. Your hatred of the Prophet outweigh your compassion for the Faithful. So go, go be Wrath. Let it consume you, let it drain your soul. I’ll be here.” 

“You will?” Evan asks, wryness twisting his words into something bitter. 

“Can’t exactly go anywhere.” With a jerk of his bound hands, Jon gestures to his leg.

Evan doesn’t know why he trusts the other man to stay put, but he does. He knows that logistically, some stairs wouldn’t stop Jonathan from leaving if he really put his mind to it. But something within him forces him to believe the crazed, wounded man and his harsh words. 

Evan makes sure he has the key to Jon’s gate - just to be safe, he slips it over his head. It rests against his chest, cold metal soaking in the heat from his exhausted body. Jonathan’s lips twist into a silent snarl at the sight, but he says nothing.

He leaves the bunker. Rifle gripped tight in his hands, radio strapped to his belt. Resolve steeled, head held high. 

Evan doesn’t take a chance of a vehicle betraying his position, so he walks to Jonathan’s Gate. 

It’s an agonizingly slow walk. Under the cover of night, with nothing to illuminate his way other than light at the top of the hill, shadows play tricks on his mind. 

He stops every few minutes because some sort of noise frightens him. For a brief, insane second he ponders if Delirious followed him from the bunker to his Gate. 

But that’s dumb. He would hear Jonathan, loud and clear. 

 

When he gets to the Gate, he crouches low in the grass and watches. 

If he does this right, it’s going to be the feat of the century. 

The actual entrance to the bunker is buried in a makeshift wall, with peggies patrolling the outside. They’re all on alert, weapons ready and eyes searching. 

Evan swears softly under his breath. He really doesn’t want to kill them, but if they even see him just once, they won’t let him go peacefully. 

His trigger finger twitches. 

He briefly thinks of how much easier this would be if he would just kill them all. Remove the threat, like pulling weeds. 

But more weeds would fill their place, weeds with a vengeance.

Can weeds have vengeance?

Evan shakes his head of those thoughts, focusing on the task at

hand. 

He has to do this with as little casualties as possible. 

And that means going in through the silo. Hopefully it’s still unguarded.

 

Evan is considering making an offering to whatever deity is looking over him right now. Perhaps roses. Or homemade cookies, if he could actually learn to make cookies. 

The silo is empty, void of guards and everything else that would make Evan’s job a thousand times more difficult.

He slips in through the hatch in the roof, and climbs down platform by platform. It’s much easier without a screwdriver in your leg. 

Evan shudders at the horrid memory. It doesn’t help when he passes the occasional rusted bit of his own blood on the rungs of the ladders, on the edges of the little platforms. 

There’s still the Bliss in the air. Evan does his best to not breathe it in too much, but they’ve started filling the silo with the dried flowers. Enough of them fill the bottom that Evan has to exit the silo a floor earlier than where he remembers the cell block being. 

But since it means less time in the Bliss-infused air, he isn’t too mad about it. He exits  the silo into a cramped hallway, lined on both sides with crates. He treads carefully, keeping his footsteps muffled and ears strained for noise. 

He can hear voices ahead of him, so he ducks into a different hallway that leads into a small room that has to be a control center of some kind. There’s a desk in the middle, overlaid with papers. A couple computer consoles line two of the walls, with the third being covered in television screens depicting grayscale camera feed. 

Evan bypasses this for now, intending to come back to it at some point. The next hallway leads to a stairwell, so he follows that.

At the bottom of the stairs sits an altar bathed in flickering candlelight; on the wall, white paint tells Evan that “We will march through Eden’s Gate”.

A book of Ohm sits on the altar, surrounded by little candles. 

Evan passes this, making sure not to look too closely at it. 

As he descends the bunker, it becomes more and more unsettling. Black tarps line the floors and walls. Workbenches line the walls, littered with tools; some are brand new and shiny, while others are covered in a rusted substance that’s too dark to be anything but blood.

Cult flags hang from the ceiling, verses about Eden painted on the walls. Flickering yellow lights ahead only add to it all.

At one junction in the hallway, bodies are hanging from the ceiling like gutted pigs. Some are wrapped in black plastic, and some are not. Some have flowers taped to them, some are cut open, one has antlers sticking out of what was the person’s stomach.

Evan throws up in his mouth a little from both the sight and the stench, but he forces himself to swallow and move on. He can puke his guts out when he’s gotten Luke to safety.

Past the gross display of dead bodies is a small room. There’s a single lamp illuminating it, casting shadows over two chairs in the middle of the room. In those chairs are slumped bodies, definitely not alive.

Evan inches closer to them, eyebrows furrowing when he sees their apparel. They’re dead peggies. One of them, a woman whose neck is now twisted at a lethal angle, sits with a large framed photograph of Ohm in her lap. The bodies are fresh, blood still dripping from a wound on the woman’s neck.

Evan carefully passes the two corpses, raising his weapon up a little. He doesn’t know who killed them, but that person is still on the loose, so he has to be careful.

Just as he’s about to cross the threshold of the room, he hears something.

He can’t identify the noise, but it’s definitely not random; someone’s in the room with him. 

Evan clicks the safety on and off on his rifle as a warning. When the other person makes no further move, he heads for the door that leads into another hallway.

His foot is barely over the line when someone swipes his feet out from under him. A hand to his throat presses him down, aiding in his drop to the floor. His rifle is swept from his arms.

He falls to the floor, defenseless and now pissed. He’s about to retaliate with a punch before he sees exactly who just expertly disarmed him with the skill of a U.S. Marshal.

“Luke?”

The man digging his knees into Evan’s side stares at him. For a brief moment, his expression is completely unreadable. Then, it morphs into shock, then frustration. 

“I thought I told you not to come back unless you had an army,” Luke growls, grasping Evan’s hand and hauling him back up. “What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s Delirious? Is he dead?” 

Evan shakes his head. “He’s alive.”

Luke huffs. He looks around them, eyeing the dead bodies with disgust. “Something started happening,” He says, voice low as if someone might overhear them. “All the fuckin’ peggies started freakin’ out, and the doors started closin’.” He looks at Evan, and only then does the damage on his face become apparent. His eyes are dark from lack of sleep, cheeks gaunt, one of them cut open. “I thought we were gonna be stuck down here forever.” 

Evan places his arm on Luke’s shoulder, unsure of what else to do. 

The two of them fall silent for a moment, only to be broken by Luke scoffing. 

“Can’t you believe you came back,” The Marshal mutters with a shake of his head. He fixes his gaze on Evan, searching his face for something.”What now? Did you have a plan?” His tone is accusing, like he knows that Evan never has a plan.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

He scoffs once more. “How the fuck did you get back in? No alarms or anything went off, I know you didn’t just bust down the doors.” 

“The silo. It’s still unguarded.” 

“Dumbass.” 

Evan isn’t sure whether Luke is referring to him or the peggies, so he stays silent.

Luke thinks for a moment, tracing his knuckles as he ponders every possible outcome to their situation. “We can’t get the others out without causing a panic,” He concludes after a moment.

“I don’t wanna wreck the bunker,” Evan tells him quickly. “I’m done killing.” 

Luke snorts. “As long as you’re in Hope county, you ain’t ever done killin’. But fine, we can do it your way for now, as long as you’re fine with leaving the others here. With Jon gone, they should be alright; the peggies won’t take up his skin-carvin’ or anythin’.” 

“Did Jon do that to you?” Evan can’t help but ask, gesturing to the cut on Luke’s cheek. It’s deep, obviously not tended to and still bleeding. 

“Yeah, he wasn’t too happy with me helpin’ you get out and all. But he’ll just have to suck it up. Take me to him, I assume you have him tied up somewhere or something.” 

Evan starts to head back towards the exit only to pause just before the door. “Are you sure we can’t the other prisoners out?” He asks. Guilt already starts to pool at the base of his stomach from the mere thought of leaving them here.

“There’s too many,” Luke tells him, voice uncharacteristically soft. He feels the same pain, the same guilt. But, “We can’t get them out without alerting the peggies, and then it’s a shootout.” 

With a heavy sigh, Evan starts walking again.

Together, the two of them creep through the bunker. They meld with the shadows, remaining forever unseen.

They move past the hallway of mutilated bodies; Luke’s hands clench into fists while Evan fights the building nausea. 

They past the little altar at the base of the stairs. The little candles are still lit; Luke takes the Book of Ohm and sets it on fire, then blows out the candles. 

Together, they pass through hallway after hallway, narrowly avoiding a few groups of peggies as they move. 

They pass a room filled with peggies having a memorial of sorts for Delirious. One peggie dressed in what must be some sort of formal wear - dirty though it is - is reading from a Book of Ohm. The other peggies are on their knees, heads bowed and ears straining to catch every last holy word. 

Evan has to drag Luke away from them for fear of him causing some sort of scene.

They make it to the silo without trouble. 

With a shared glance, they both pull their t-shirts over their noses and start climbing the rungs and platforms. 

Having been starved and imprisoned, Luke is slow to climb due to weakness.

Having been in a plane crash and minor shootout with no rest, Evan is slow to climb due to exhaustion. 

Despite all that, they’re making good time. 

They’re about halfway up - safe from the majority of the Bliss at the bottom - when a PA system screeches to life throughout the vault. The sound echoes throughout the silo, hurting Evan’s ears.

_ “The Prophet would like your attention for this very important message,”  _ Some woman with a scratchy voice announces through the system. 

Evan can barely discern what she’s saying through the layers of echoes. He doesn’t stop climbing, nor does Luke. 

_ “Brothers and Sisters, my Family, Faithful,” _ Ohm’s voice, strong and powerful, comes through and settles all around them.  _ “I’m sure you all have heard what happened. Our Herald of the Valley, Delirious, has been taken. Fear not, for he has not met the embrace of Death. He is still alive.”  _

“How the fuck does he know?” Luke hisses, struggling to keep his grip on a rung as he reaches for another. 

“I have no idea. There weren’t any witnesses.” 

_ “I know in my heart that Delirious lives on. He continues to fight for our cause. Take faith, for he will be returned to the embrace of his Family soon enough. He will walk through Eden with us, I am sure of that. _

_ The Interloper who has taken him will face judgement for his actions.”  _

The announcement systems cut off with another screech. 

Evan looks down at Luke, who meets with his gaze with an expression that merely says “fuck.” An unnatural sense of foreboding settles over them like a blanket meant to suffocate them. 

They both start climbing as quickly as they can. 

 

They make it back to the bunker by the time the sun starts coming back up. The dark blue of the sky is slowly melding into oranges and reds. A new day. 

Evan enters the bunker just in case Jonathan found something to throw. But no such luck; Jon fell asleep during his absence. 

He’s snoring lightly, face half turned into the thin pillow. 

Luke chuckles at the sight of him, waking Jon. 

“Oh fuck, it’s you,” Jonathan mumbles, blinking hazily and pushing himself into a sitting position. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Luke agrees. He goes over to Jon, and starts checking him over. He places his hand on Jon’s chin, lifting his head this way and that. “You alright?” he asks in such a caring way that Evan is shocked. 

“Like you fuckin’ care,” Jonathan says. He doesn’t move Luke’s hands though. “Evan shot me in the leg after he crashed my plane.” 

“You seem fine,” Luke comments. He examines the gauze around the bullet wound; a small spot of red has started in the middle, but otherwise it’s fine. “You did good,” He tells Evan. 

“Did good- he shot me!” Jonathan protests, eyes wide and pout petulant.

“You deserved it,” Luke says. He turns away from the pouting man to focus on Evan. “What now?” 

Evan tries his best to think, he really does. But his brain doesn’t want to work, and he won’t force it. “I need to sleep,” he answers. “We’ll talk about this shit later.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Evan goes to crash on the couch in the living room, falling asleep damn near immediately.

Luke throws a blanket over him just before he goes to sleep himself, taking one of the other bunk beds in the room with Jonathan. Thankfully, the whiny prisoner is already asleep, saving Luke from having to have a potentially painful conversation with him. 

He takes the leather belt off of Jon’s wrists, and places it in a random drawer of the wardrobe.

The idea that if Jon wanted to, he could probably kill both him and Evan if he woke up before they did isn’t lost on Luke. 

But Luke knows Jon, and he knows that Jon won’t kill them. He drags the thin blanket up to Jon’s chest, then goes to sleep on the cot next to him.


	20. trials and tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan touches base with his friends in Fall's End. It goes about as well as expected.

Evan wakes up to a plate of something mushy and vaguely reminiscent of eggs being placed on the floor in front of him, along with a very large cup of water and a couple painkillers.

He looks up, blinking rapidly to get the sleep out of his eyes. 

Luke’s standing there, looking as well-rested as anyone can be. “It’s just powdered eggs, but at least there was some fuckin’ salt and pepper,” He says, voice soft in the morning air. He places a fork in Evan’s hand, then leaves the room. 

After he painfully shoves himself into a half-assed sitting position, Evan starts chowing down on the eggs. 

They’re gritty and terrible, but he’s so starved that they taste wonderful. He forces himself to eat slowly, so he won’t want to puke them up later. 

Once that’s done, he takes the painkillers and downs the water.

It takes more self-control than he thought he had to not chug the water as fast as he can. He’s surprised he manages to do it.

Food eaten, water drank, pills taken. The mental checklist completed, Evan takes the dishes into the tiny little kitchen and goes to find the other two men occupying the tiny little bunker. 

Jonathan and Luke are sitting on the same bed, close enough for their shoulders to touch as they each eat their own serving of powdered eggs.

They each look up as Evan enters the room. Jonathan’s expressionless face morphs into a light glare, while Luke gives him a grin. 

“You feelin’ alright?” 

“Good enough,” Evan replies. He awkwardly stands in the doorway, unsure of what to do now. 

Then Luke waves his hand to the other cot, and Evan takes a seat on it. 

“Sleep well?” 

Evan nods. “You?” 

“I slept fine. Jonny was snorin’, but other than that, it was fine.” 

“I do not snore, and don’t call me Jonny!” 

“Except you do snore, Jonny.” 

Jonathan huffs, flipping Luke off before returning his attention to his breakfast. 

Evan chuckles at the display. 

“So what’s your next move?” Luke asks gingerly, setting his empty plate on the bed.

Evan shrugs. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels about everything. Jonathan being here, Jonathan not being dead, them both being missing for a day now… explaining everything is going to be a pain in the ass. 

He realizes he misses Peaches when his hands clench and unclench; he wants nothing more than to bury them in her fur, letting her be a good therapy cougar and soak up all his negative emotions until he’s calm. 

He hopes she’s alright.

“I’m gonna touch base with Fall’s End, then go from there,” Evan decides with more confidence than he has. “Probably gonna head for the river.”

“To capture my brother like the feral dogs you think we are?” Jonathan asks. His voice is casual, masking the hatred lighting an icy fire in his eyes.

Luke harshly elbows Jonathan in the side, shooting him a glare before looking at Evan. “Sounds good. I’ll take care of Jon here.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“It’s either that or I tie you to the bed and leave and let you die of boredom.” 

Jonathan just scowls, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Evan takes that as his cue to get going. He stands, splaying his hands on his thighs awkwardly. “Do you guys, uh, need anything while I’m out?” 

Luke turns to Jonathan, nudges him, and jerks his head towards Evan. 

Jonathan shakes his head, keeping his glare fixed on his knees. 

Luke sighs, and looks up to Evan with a look that reminds him of a parent having to deal with an uncooperative child. “Jonny has somethin’ to ask of you.” 

“Fuck you, Luke.” Jon lifts his gaze, now suddenly a thousand times more angry. He forces his expression to soften, and it works. A little. “Will you deign to bring me something from my house that you stole from under me?” 

“Jonathan,” Luke says. A warning.

“What is it?” Evan asks. 

“Under my bed, directly beneath the pillow on the left side, is a loose floorboard. Under that floorboard is a box of… personal things. Could you bring it to me?” 

“What’s in it?”

“None of your damn business,” Jon snaps.

Luke goes to chastise him, only to be stopped by Evan. 

“I shouldn’t have pried, he’s right. As long as it won’t kill me, I’ll bring you your box.” 

“Thank you.” The words sound impossible to say for Jon, but he manages.

 

Evan decides to do that first. He finds a truck on the property - he can’t remember the name of the dead family who owned it. He makes the drive to Jonathan’s ranch in record time. 

Resistance members are milling about, armed but celebratory. 

They don’t even question Evan when he slips into the house as quickly as he can. He’s beyond grateful none of them try to talk to him; they’re too caught up in their good moods to even bother. 

To their knowledge, the threat looming over the Valley is gone. They’re free. 

Evan swallows his guilt at letting Jon live in favor of making it to his bedroom. 

He finds the floorboard, pops it up, and takes out a worn wooden black box. The metal lock on it is rusted; it opens with a little squeak. 

Evan can’t help but look inside of it. 

The contents are interesting. 

There’s a Book of Ohm, presumably Jonathan’s personal copy. There’s also a baggie of weed, a bottle of cheap vodka that’s mostly full, an orange bottle of pills, and a folded piece of paper. 

Evan takes the paper out, curiosity killing him. He unfolds it, and finds it’s a photograph. A really old one, if the creases are anything to go by. 

It’s of Jonathan and Luke, when they were both quite young. Luke’s arm is around Jon’s shoulders, and they’re smiling with so much joy in their eyes it hurts to think about where that happiness went. 

Evan recognizes the couch as Luke’s from when he was growing up; the Pattersons had a horrible floral couch. 

The memories come flooding back. Evan remembers taking Jonathan over to Luke’s house a few times for hangouts. Evan remembers dropping Jonathan and Luke off at the pizza place across town after school every Friday. Evan remembers finding his mom’s old camera, and taking the picture he’s holding. 

Evan remembers Luke and his family moving away, and Jonathan being crushed.

He puts the photo back in the box and closes it a bit more harshly than he should. 

Eyes watering, black box tucked under his arm, he heads back to the truck, and back to the bunker. He finds Luke and shoves the box into his arms, barely lingering long enough for Luke to thank him before he’s off again. 

He makes to Fall’s End in record time. The town is silent, but there are cars everywhere, mostly centered around the Spread Eagle. The bar’s parking lot is packed; there’s so many cars that some spilled onto the street near it. 

Evan adds to those cars, parking his towards the edge of the group. 

The very second he steps foot into the bar, everyone’s eyes gravitate towards him. 

Pretty much everyone he knows is seated or standing in the bar. Even Kelly and Lanai are there, as is Anthony. Everyone from the county he’s ever known, gathered in one place. 

He hopes they weren’t there to mourn him or anything.

The first to make a move is Brock. He stands from his seat at the bar, unwavering gaze fixed on him. He walks slowly, as if he fears moving too fast will make Evan disappear.

When Brock stops just a couple steps before Evan, he brings his hands up, barely grazing Evan’s shoulders. 

“You’re alive,” Brock whispers, like he still can’t believe it. 

“I’m alive,” Evan agrees. 

That seems to dispel the air of disbelief. Brock yanks him in for the tightest hug he’s ever given. 

The silence is broken. His friends surge forward, each with their own questions and comments and hugs to give. 

Evan just smiles, accepts the hug, refuses to answer the questions. It’s too much - there’s too many people, he’s barely aware of Marcel and Scotty pushing each other away for a hug because there’s Nogla on his other side, asking him about something-

“EVERYONE, shut the fuck up!” 

All eyes float towards Chrissy, who’s standing on a table with Simone at her side. “Clear a fucking path!” 

People shuffle to the side, clearing a straight path towards Simone. Evan says nothing, just stands there, confused as hell. 

It’s not until Simone whistles, and the doors to the kitchen in the back open, and a blur of orange fur is barreling towards Evan. 

He crouches before he even knows what’s going on, and when his favorite cougar in the world crashes into him and knocks him onto his back, he doesn’t even mind the pain. 

“Peaches!” Evan laughs, wrapping an arm around her as much as she’ll let him. Standing on his chest, she’s at the perfect height to lick his face and bash her head against his chin, begging for pets. 

He’s happy to oblige, burying his hands in her fur. She purrs with enough force to make her entire being vibrate. 

“She missed you,” Simone comments, watching the reunion with a smile. 

Evan doesn’t have to tell her that he missed Peaches too. He sits up, grabbing Peaches’ collar and bringing her in for a real hug. He stays like that for as long as she’ll let him before she’s chirping for more pets. 

He startles at a hand on his shoulder, only to calm when he sees it’s Kelly. She’s grinning, but it’s forced. Like she knows the happy times can’t last. 

“Let’s get you settled, yeah?” She asks, gesturing to the bar. “Have you eaten breakfast?” 

Evan nods, making himself stand up. Peaches knocks her head against his legs, which makes it difficult to walk, but he manages. 

He sits at the bar, in the center stool. He lowers the stool so he can still pet Peaches, while his friends all settle around him.

Brian places a beer on the counter. Evan shoots him a grateful smile, taking the drink with care. He probably shouldn’t be drinking a beer so early in the morning, but fuck it. He’s earned it. 

The silence settles on the room, tension thick and the elephant in the room obvious. 

“So what the fuck happened?” Lanai asks, always the one to break the silence. 

Evan looks to Nogla, whose hand has gravitated to his chest. Brock and Brian are doing the same, holding their chests with pain in their eyes. 

“It started at the church,” Evan tries to say, only for his voice to give up on him. He drinks his beer, hoping it’ll help. It doesn’t. 

It’s Nogla who tells the story. Delirious, the church, the carving. The gun in the Bible, Evan missing Delirious and then him getting away. 

“Everyone raced off to get ‘im, and I stayed back. Got Peaches outta the car, and waited,” Nogla says, then looks at Evan expectantly. 

When he still can’t talk for some reason, Brian picks up the story. 

He recounts how they drove to Delirious’ ranch, fighting off air support as they went. When they get to where Evan had to fly, Simone picks up where Brian left off. 

How they shot Delirious out of the sky with Brock’s help - Lauren gives Brock a proud grin. 

Now it’s left to Evan to finish the story.

He forces himself to find his voice, and tells the rest. He says how he went after Delirious, how he shot him in the leg, how he couldn’t kill him. How he brought Delirious to a bunker, then went and saved Luke so he could babysit Jonathan.

“Wait,” Nogla interrupts before he can finish talking, “You mean to tell me that Delirious is alive?” His voice is stagnant, a warning of untold emotions. 

Evan can only nod. He grips Peaches’ fur a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to stabilize him. He braces himself for the backlash. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Brian damn near  screeches, anger and disbelief raising the pitch of his of his voice by a couple octaves. “The bastard’s  _ alive _ ?” 

“What the fuck for?” Nogla adds, looking equally upset. He sends wild glances around, seeking confirmation that he isn’t crazy to think Delirious should be six feet under by now. His gaze lands on Brock, who just shrugs. 

“Evan told Simone and I to keep him alive, that’s all I know.” 

“You let him do this?” Marcel whirls on Simone, confusion and anger twisting his features into a scowl.

“Don’t fucking give me that,” She snaps. “He has his reasons-” 

“Does he?” Brian pipes up, arms crossed. “Does he really?” 

Arguments break out, from every corner of the room. Loud, heated arguments full of curses and wide gestures. Looks shot towards Evan while they think he isn’t looking. His friends wondering what the hell is wrong with him. 

Peaches cowers into his side a little, overwhelmed with the noise. She isn’t aware of what’s going on; she doesn’t know that Evan’s friends are taking sides - some for him, some against. 

“Don’t fuckin’ forget, Delirious  _ maimed _ me,  _ maimed _ my goddamn boyfriend, and you’re  _ defending _ him?” Brian’s voice, accent thickened in his anger, comes through clearest of all. 

Evan raises his head and scans the room. 

He breaks when he sees Lauren. She’s in the midst of the fighting, of defending him against Marcel. She looks so close to crying, her eyes brimming with tears, and yet she’s standing as tall as she can, looking Marcel in his eyes as she tells him he’s wrong. 

She shouldn’t be here. None of them should be here. 

Evan pats Peaches on her head a couple times before carefully standing up on the bar. No one notices him amongst the fighting. A migraine is blooming in the back of his head. 

He grabs a beer bottle - half full, he doesn’t know whose it is, and throws onto the ground as hard as he possibly can. 

It shatters into a thousand pieces. All eyes are on him once again. 

“For the love of God, shut the fuck up,” He brings in the sternest voice he can possibly muster. “I get that you’re pissed, I fucking get it. But I won’t budge on this. I won’t kill Delirious, and I’m not killing his brothers.” 

“They’re monsters-” 

“Are we even better?” Evan snaps. He doesn’t know who just tried to speak, he just knows he’s done with this bullshit. “We’ve killed people too, innocent people who just wanted to find some sort of happiness in a weird cult. You call them monsters, you call them murderers, but we’re no fucking better.” 

He takes a deep breath. Tears are gathering in his eyes. He blinks them away. “We loved them once. We were their family once. I’m not killing them, so if you want them dead so fucking bad do it yourselves.” 

He jumps off the bar, landing in the center of the broken glass and spilled beer. To protect her, he picks Peaches up and carries her out of the bar. He can’t stand to be in the bar anymore. It’s too crowded.

He makes it to the edge of the town before someone calls out to him. 

“Here we go,” he murmurs to Peaches. He doesn’t turn to face whoever is there. He just sits down on the road; the view he has - green fields, mountains in the distance - it’s beautiful. He could sit here for hours. He wants nothing more than to sit there for hours.

He listens for the approaching feet, tensing when they near him. When they reach him, they sit down next to him; they cross their legs, and Evan can see familiar worn sneakers.

“Ev,” Simone begins hesitantly. Like she doesn’t know what to say. 

Neither does he. 

So they don’t say anything. Peaches wanders over to Simone, asking for pets; she’s happy to oblige.

The silence is calm, but fragile. 

Evan is the first to break it. “Have they outed me as a traitor yet?” he asks, only half-joking.

“Not yet. Lanai yelled at them pretty good.”

Evan can’t stop his brows from raising at that. Lanai standing up for him? He didn’t think she ever would. 

Simone just shrugs. “Lanai says that if we aren’t united, then we don’t stand a chance in taking them down. I’m pretty sure she wants you to kill them though, public execution style. But we respect your choice to leave them alive.” 

“Except you don’t, not really. Brian and Nogla were pissed.” 

“But we trust you. And who knows, maybe… maybe Ohm and his brothers can even find salvation.” She lets out a bitter chuckle at the irony. 

Even Evan’s lips quirk up a little. The irony is just too good.

“Where… where is he? Delirious, I mean.” 

“In a bunker, with Luke.” 

Simone nods. She understands she won’t get anything else, so she changes the subject. “Henbane next?” 

“Yep.” 

“Maybe you’d like some help with that?” 

Evan and Simone whip around at the new voice, only to relax when they see it’s Anthony. They stand to greet him while Peaches gives him an appreciative chirp. 

“If you’re willing to help, I’d love to have you along.” Evan is grateful that he doesn’t have to ask for help. 

Anthony chuckles. “You know I’m not gonna let you have all the fun to yourself.” 

“I’m sure Chrissy would love to join you guys,” Simone comments, shooting Anthony a glance that goes unnoticed by Evan. 

Understanding the true meaning of her words, Anthony is quick to nod. “Yeah, let’s bring Chrissy. She’s been dying to burn some Bliss fields down.” 

Evan stands, dusting pants off and smiling his tired smile. “It’s a plan, then.” 

 

An hour later, and the three of them - four, Peaches is with them - are driving along the winding roads to the Henbane river in Anthony’s pickup truck.

Peaches is in the bed, Anthony is driving, Chrissy has shotgun and Evan’s in the back of the cab. 

They listen to non-cult music, singing as loud and as badly as they possibly can, fucking up the words on purpose and having a good time. 

Evan could almost believe they’re on their way to a party or something, and not to take down the youngest leader of a murderous cult. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smitty's next, bois!


	21. plans are abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan needs to figure out how to get Smitty to cooperate. Luckily for him, Smitty makes it easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAM early chapter!  
> I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> *trigger warning* there's some mention of burnt bodies, it's not too gory or anything but it's there

It seems that the very millisecond they officially enter the Henbane region, everything goes to shit.

At the buzz of his radio, Anthony snaps the music volume all the way down and listens with bated breath.

_ “Mayday, mayday, the jail is under attack, I repeat, the jail is under attack. Calling all aid available, we are under fucking atta-”  _

The signal dies, and everyone in the car looks to Anthony. His smile is gone; if you didn’t know it was there before, you would think the man had never smiled in his life. 

He presses his foot down on the gas, now going twenty over the speed limit. Then thirty, forty- 

“We’re going to die if you don’t slow the fuck down,” Chrissy mutters, grabbing her shotgun and making sure it’s loaded. 

“They’re going to die if I don’t speed up,” Anthony retorts. His eyes are glued to the road, his foot glued to the accelerator.

 

When they get to the jail, it’s mayhem.

A peggie roadblock has been set up on the road leading up the jail, forcing Anthony to leave the truck at the bottom of the hill. 

“Sons of bitches,” He spits, getting out and slamming the door with enough force that it rocks the truck.

From a mere glance, Evan can tell this is serious.

The metal gates to the jail, the ones that are supposed to make it the most defensible place in the county, are busted open. It looks like they were exploded - the metal is charred and crumpled like a piece of paper.

Cultists and angels alike are everywhere, firing and screaming and waging war on the Resistance members.

Chrissy gets her flamethrower from the bed of the truck. Anthony takes her shotgun, while Evan gets his rifle and throwing knives that he tucks into his boots.

Evan ignores the little voice that tells them they look like the heroes of a shitty B-movie, and starts up the hill.

Chrissy runs ahead of him, full on sprinting, on her own personal mission. She gets to the jail before any of them. Her targets are specific - she only goes for the Angels.

Evan remembers her saying that they’re nothing more than zombies. That she’s doing them a favor, even if they don’t know it. 

He hates that they have to die. He realizes why they brought Chrissy along now - she’s only one willing to do what needs to be done for them. 

He shoots Anthony a look, then turns back to the war being waged in front of them. He shoots the cultists, never aiming to kill. 

It seems that they aren’t either - there are no bodies littering the grounds, none besides the Angels. 

Evan lands a bullet square in the leg of a peggie who has the perfect chance to shoot him back, even kill him. 

But the downed peggie just drops their weapon and sprints away. Away from the jail, away from their fellow cultists. They don’t shoot back. They just accept their defeat.

“What the hell is going on?” Anthony asks, watching with bewilderment.

“No fucking clue,” Evan admits. He ignores the feeling of dread building in his guts, and keeps moving, aiming for the next peggie’s hands as they’re about to shoot a Resistance member.

They keep moving forward, advancing on the onslaught. Bullets fly, bullets land in nonlethal places, and the cultists slowly fall back. 

The unmasked stench of charred flesh fills the air. Chrissy’s taken care of all the Angels with horrible efficiency. 

They prove to be the only casualties in this battle. Well, those and the few unlucky peggies that Peaches had managed to catch. Luckily, she’s more focused on the Angels and their havoc.

By the time Evan and Anthony reach the gate, all other peggies have fled. Wounded ones were carried off by their comrades, down the hill towards their arsenal of vehicles. They simply vanish. 

“Close the gates!” Anthony commands, voice booming to override the remaining chaos. “We’re on full lockdown until further notice!” 

Evan winces as the busted metal gates screech shut, sealing them all within the high walls of the jail. 

“What the fuck was that all about?” Chrissy appears out of nowhere, dirtied but looking no worse for wear. She’s got a smear of char going across her forehead, as if she wiped her soot-covered hands across her face.

“What does it matter?” Anthony shoves past her. He attempts to reign in the rest of the Resistance members, getting them to do the typical cleanup after a fight like this. Though there’s more burnt bodies they have to take care of this time.

“That wasn’t normal.” Chrissy looks to Evan to make sure she isn’t the only one who thinks so.

Evan nods, eyes glancing over to the shut gates. “Yeah, they were definitely planning something.” 

“What could they possibly be planning?” Anthony snaps, face red with exertion. 

“Anything,” Chrissy retorts. “They’ve got all the Resizi packed up nice and neat in the jail like a goddamn Christmas present, just waiting for something to happen and we all die.” 

“Smitty wouldn’t do that,” Evan tries. “He’s better than that.” 

Chrissy sighs, a deep and weary sigh. “Maybe he’s better than a small genocide, but he isn’t above much else.” 

“Let’s discuss this inside,” Anthony says in a way that doesn’t allow for argument. He quickly stomps off, leaving Evan and Chrissy to follow him. 

Peaches whirs past them, blood covering her muzzle and her paws. She leaves little crimson paw prints in her wake, and Evan cringes at the thought of getting whomever’s blood that is off her. 

Once they’re all safely inside the command center, Anthony plops himself down into a chair with a heavy groan.

“You good?” Chrissy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m fine. Someone, give me a status report.” He turns in his chair, facing the bustling people moving throughout the rest of the jail.

A woman with black hair - Tracy, Evan thinks her name is - steps forward. “No deaths, just superficial wounds on our guys. They were trying to force us into the cells, they weren’t here to kill us.” 

“‘Cause that’s not suspicious,” Chrissy mutters under her breath. 

Evan didn’t wanna say it, but he’s thinking the same thing. There’s definitely something going on - Smitty has a plan going, and it frightens him that he literally has no idea what that could entail. 

“Thank you, Tracy.” Anthony turns to face Chrissy and Evan, his own confidence wavering. “At least we’re still alive. That’s a lot to ask for, nowadays.” 

“But what the hell do we do now?” Chrissy asks, glancing between the both of them. “Clearly Smitty’s up to some shit, going out isn’t safe.” 

“No it isn’t,” Anthony agrees. He scrubs his face with his hand, and glances to the television screens showing the security camera feed. He thinks for a moment, then gives another hefty sigh. “Let’s just stay here for the meantime. Help clean up, get sorted, figure out what we can from here. In the meantime, no one goes outside the goddamn walls, understood?” 

Evan and Chrissy both nod, then separate. 

Chrissy ends up helping clear up the bodies that are immediately in the gate; she and only one other person are willing to deal with the charred Angels, so they spend their time doing that. 

Evan helps out in the infirmary, bandaging superficial wounds with his limited medical skills. 

Peaches takes a nap in Evan’s cell, getting blood all over the blanket covering his bed. 

When all wounds are taken care of, Evan goes to help Anthony take stock of their supplies. They’re running low on just about everything, the most concerning thing being ammunition. 

“We might not be able to survive another attempt on the jail,” Anthony comments grimly. 

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” Evan tells him. He doesn’t know when he plans to get out and go find Smitty. He also doesn’t know exactly where Smitty is, or how he should go about this entire plan. 

Just as Anthony and him are finished taking inventory, Tracy pops her head into the room. Her brow is twisted in concern as she beckons the both of them. “There’s an unknown aircraft flying close to us.” 

“Peggie plane?” Anthony asks, quickly abandoning his task and following her into the command center. 

Evan bypasses them, going outside and climbing up the wall into one of the guard towers. He sees the plane, and it’s definitely flying close. And low. 

It’s flying awfully low. 

It doesn’t look like any sort of combat plane. It looks like a normal biplane, painted that horrible cream color the peggies seem to like so much. 

It’s only when the plane reaches the foot of the hill does Evan realize what’s happening. 

“GET INSIDE!” He screams, scrambling from the tower and onto the ground. He drops off the ladder, landing way too rough on his foot in his effort to shove everyone into the jail. 

“What the fuck?” Chrissy doesn’t follow his order, instead looking at him like he’s gone crazy. “Evan, what the hell is your problem?” 

“That!” Evan points to the plane, and his stomach drops. 

The plane is a crop duster plane, but instead of dispensing pesticide or anything, it’s dropping Bliss. A million pounds of it condensed in a sickly green cloud floats over the jail. 

Evan pushes Chrissy inside, but not before getting hit with a heavy dose of it himself. Saccharine dust sticks to his clothes; he inhales it, he can taste it coating his throat and his mouth. 

The white sparkles appear in his vision, and everything goes slightly green. 

“Fuck, it’s coming through the vents!” Someone shouts.

Evan can’t tell who’s around him anymore - his vision is too blurry. He feels a pair of hands on his arms, stabilizing him. He tries to lean into them, but he stumbles over his own feet and falls to the ground.

The noise around him fades into a buzz. It’s suffocating, like a blanket wrapped too tightly around him. 

White sparkles corrode his vision as he succumbs to the horrible drug.

 

_ Welcome to the Bliss. _

 

Evan opens his eyes. He’s greeted with that all too familiar mint sky. 

He pushes himself off the ground much too quickly. His eyes pulse, vision doing somersaults along with his stomach. When his body calms down enough to cooperate with him, Evan takes a look around. 

He’s on a grass field. The grass is tall, up to his knees. Only a little of the field is visible - Bliss itself forms a sort of wall, a barrier of billowing green mist surrounding the small area he’s in. Up ahead are white wrought-iron gates. They’re shut, but they’re on the only path that leads away from the small clearing. 

Something emits a groan from behind him. 

Evan whirls around and grabs the knife from his boot, ready to throw it at the intruder. 

But it isn’t an intruder. It’s Anthony, laying on his back in the grass. And Chrissy, curled up on her side. 

This is new. He’s usually alone in the Bliss. 

What the fuck is going on?

Evan goes to help the both of them up, since they look a little worse for wear. 

“God, this is the Bliss?” Anthony asks, eyeing their surroundings with distrust and disgust. 

“You never been?” Chrissy asks, swatting Evan away as she gets up by herself. Her left arm never leaves her stomach though, he hopes she’s just nauseous or something.

“No, I’ve never fuckin’ been. I try not to get dosed with drugs on a regular basis.” 

“Shit happens,” Evan murmurs, feeling like that was a direct attack on him. 

Chrissy looks at the two of them. Her face is conflicted, like she wants to both smirk and frown. She settles for a weird half and half. “I fuckin’ told you something was going on.” 

“Yeah, you did,” Anthony snaps. 

“Both of you hush,” Evan commands, done with their bickering. “Let’s go see why the hell we’re here.” He takes Chrissy’s hand in his left and Anthony’s hand in his right. He doesn’t trust the Bliss when he’s not alone. Not that he trusts it at all, but you know.

They all set off towards the white gates, huddled together and wary of their environment. If either of them notice how Evan is limping just a bit, they don’t say anything.

The tall gates swing open as they get closer.

_ I hope you know what you’re doing _ .

Evan winces as Smitty’s disembodied voice floats around them. Chrissy stops walking entirely, while Anthony curses under his breath. He keeps pushing, though. Keeps moving past the gates, following the path in the dirt.

Evan hopes he knows what he’s doing too. He probably doesn’t, but he’ll figure it out. Hopefully. 

They walk for God knows how long until they come upon another clearing. 

This one is much nicer. There’s a forest that constructs the walls of the clearing; in the center of the near-perfect circle is a large boulder. Surrounding the boulder is a very shallow stream. 

Sitting on top of the boulder is none other than Smitty himself. He isn’t alone, either. John is sitting next to him, a little bit lower on the boulder so he’s leaning against Smitty’s legs. 

Evan lets go of his friends hands, instead holding his arms out in front of them. He pushes them behind a little as he steps forward. 

Smitty regards the three of them with a small smile. He almost seems welcoming, like someone inviting guests into his home. 

“You made it, that’s good. Not gonna lie, I was a little worried. So many things could’ve gone wrong, you know?” Smitty scoots forward a little so his legs are dangling off the edge of the rock. 

“You planned all of this,” Evan surmises. “The attack, the Bliss, all of it.” 

Smitty shrugs. “I needed to talk to you. I figured this was the safest way to do it.” 

“But why attack the jail? People could’ve died.” 

At that, Smitty deflates a little. His normal attitude - serious yet light, carefree but determined, everything that made him Smitty - it’s gone. Dissipated, evaporated, just truly obliterated. 

All that’s left is a young boy who was forced to mature horrendously early in his life. 

Evan wants to breakdown just seeing it. He wants to give Smitty a hug, to take him far away from his brothers who started a cult and made him a part of it. 

He doesn’t. John does, though. John gives Smitty a hug, and encourages him to keep going. They have a mission, after all. 

Smitty scrubs his eyes underneath his sunglasses, and beckons Evan a little closer. He obeys, for one reason or another. He walks over to the rock until he’s just in front of it. 

Smitty grabs his hands, holding them tightly. He looks into Evan’s eyes with such ferocity in his own, he wants to cower away. It isn’t malice directed at him, though. Evan doesn’t where it’s directed. 

“The Collapse is going to happen, Evan.” Smitty’s voice is firm, but it’s only a facade. “It’s going to happen, whether you believe Ohm or not. The world is going to burn, and we are supposed to save as many people as we can. That’s what I want to do - I want to save people.” Tears fill his eyes, and his throat hurts, but Smitty forces himself to keep going. 

“You think I wanted this? You think I want to drug these people into cooperation so I can save their souls? You think I want to drug them beyond their own humanity when they don’t agree?” Smitty shakes his head so forcefully Evan thinks his sunglasses might fly off. “There are better ways to do this, Evan. The Prophet…” Smitty sighs. “Ohm is more powerful than you know, Evan. You have to be careful, but you have to change things.” 

“What are you saying?” Evan whispers. 

Smitty gives him the barest of grins. “He says Delirious is alive. That true?” 

Evan nods. “He’s alive and safe.” 

Smitty ponders this. He drops Evan’s hands, and looks to John. He and John have a silent conversation, one that makes Evan look to the ground so he doesn’t witness it. 

Then Smitty’s raising his hands up again, wrists bared to the sky. John is doing the same.

Evan merely watches with shock. “Are you… are you surrendering?” 

Smitty nods. 

“How the fuck do we get them back to the jail?” Chrissy asks, none too quietly. 

“I have no idea,” Anthony answers her. 

Smitty grins, watching as Evan takes the handcuffs from his belt - he snagged a couple pairs from the jail at some point, he can’t remember when - and puts them on him, then on John. 

“Nice and tight, huh,” Smitty comments. His normal attitude seems to be flowing back, bit by bit. “Kinda kinky if you ask me.” 

John just smiles. 

Evan, still a little in shock at how easy that was, just grabs the both of them by their cuffs and leads them back to his friends. 

“How do we get back?” He asks. His voice sounds quiet in his own ears. 

“Do we click our heels three times?” Chrissy asks, sarcasm dripping from her voice. 

“Nothing so dramatic,” Smittty tells them. “Though I wish I had thought of that. You just gotta go back the way you came.” 

Not having a better plan, Evan nods and takes the lead. John and Smitty walk behind them while Anthony and Chrissy take the back. They hike through the grass, back to the wrought iron gates.

But this time, when they pass through, the Bliss dissipates entirely. The green melts away, leaving the world it’s normal colors. 

Evan turns around to see if the white gates are still there, but he only sees the hill leading up to the jail.

“What the hell,” he murmurs. His head hurts. 

“Most of the Bliss should be gone by now,” Smitty says. “It was a special formula, doesn’t last very long.” 

“How courteous of you.” Anthony huffs. “I never want to experience that ever again. It’s horrible.” 

Smitty rolled his eyes. “No one said you had to like it.” 

“Let’s just get these two contained, please.” Evan grabs the two cuffed men and leads them up the hill. 

He wants nothing more than to nap right now, and the sooner everyone is put where they need to go, the sooner he can have that. 

So he bypasses the Resistance members milling about the entrance to the jail - they all seem very murky, as if they’re still slightly affected by the Bliss. It takes more time than it should for them to unlock the door to let them through, but it gets done. 

Anthony and Chrissy wander off while Evan takes Smitty and John to one of the few cells that have multiple beds in them. They’re meant to be for overflow; the jail never had enough occupants for that to happen, but at least they were prepared. 

Smitty squeals when he sees their accommodations. “You’re the best, Ev!” He happily enters the cell, followed by a more relaxed John. 

“Thank you for this,” John says as Evan takes his cuffs off. 

“Don’t mention it,” Evan tells them. He doesn’t have the heart to separate them, not after all he’s been through. Even they deserve a small amount of happiness. 

 

It’s still a few hours until the activity in the jail begins to die down a bit. Evan has to go and update the rest of his friends on what went down, he radios Luke to check in with them, and then finally gets to eat dinner. 

Someone made a shitload of venison stew, which tastes fantastic. Evan brings some to John and Smitty and lets them eat in peace. 

He’s just about to retire to his own cell - where Peaches is still sleeping, he doubts she ever moved - when he sees the Book of Ohm she’s using as a pillow. 

Without a second thought, Evan grabs it, and brings it over to the owner. 

Smitty takes the book with more care than he’s ever handled anything. “I thought you destroyed it when you wrecked the Prophet’s statue.” 

Evan thinks back to destroying that concrete eyesore. He remembers how even then, he had a soft spot for these brothers. 

“I kept it safe here.” 

Smitty looks up to him, eyes glittering something fierce. Evan goes to leave, but Smitty jumps up and grabs his hand through the bars of the cell. 

“When I said that I hope you know what you’re doing, I meant it. Ohm believes he’s our savior, but it’s you who decides what will happen,” Smitty’s voice is hardly above a whisper. “You were the start, and you’ll be the end.”

Just as Evan’s about to ask where the fuck that came from, the seriousness is melting away from Smitty, leaving him giggly and exhausted. 

“Thanks for the light reading. Goodnight, Ev.” 

Evan can only nod and stumble back to his cell. Despite his own exhaustion weighing down on his bones, his brain keeps thinking about Smitty’s words. The meaning of them is impossible to decipher, but Evan just feels like he opened a fortune cookie and got the worst fortune in the bunch.

 

Evan wakes up in the morning to Chrissy standing over him, holding a radio. He doesn’t have time to freak about her being there before a message starts playing.

_ “My Family, another one of our Heralds has been taken.”  _ There’s a pause, and something that sounds like a sniffle.  _ “I know times seem grim, but I promise you, everything will work out. Our dearest Smitty and our dearest Delirious will be returned to us, and we will walk to Eden together. It is meant to be. It will be. The Interloper will be dealt it.”  _

“Ohm is pissed,” Chrissy says gently. “Congratulations.” 

Evan doesn’t have the guts to tell her that it doesn’t feel very good. He just wants this all to be over. 


	22. visiting the family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan goes to Tyler. Tyler is angry, and then he isn't. Things seem horrible, and then they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have time to really edit this chapter too much so I apologize ahead of time if there are mistakes. This chapter didn't turn out as well as I wanted it to, but I struggled writing it and I don't wanna look at it anymore.   
> I hope y'all enjoy

_ “Are you close to the Wolf’s Den?”  _ Kelly’s voice cuts through the silence, startling Evan back into the moment. 

He fumbles blindly for his receiver, not daring to take his eyes off the road with how fast he’s driving. When his hands close around plastic, he sighs. “I’m not going to the Wolf’s Den anymore. I’ve changed my mind.”

_ “Oh. You want backup? Where are you going instead?”  _

“Backup isn’t necessary where I’m going.” 

_ “Evan, you’re worrying me. Are you heading straight for Tyler?”  _ Kelly sounds both concerned and impressed. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Kells.” Evan sets down his receiver, contemplating just tossing it out the window before deciding against that. 

He needs to do this on his own. He doesn’t want to do this on his own - more than anything else, he wants someone by his side while he faces the man he loves. But everyone has better things to do. 

Tyler waits. 

Evan drives. 

He’s close to the Visitor’s Center when his car breaks down. It’s the cherry on top of the shit-sundae that is his life right now. 

Without screaming - which is what he really wants to do - Evan gets out of the car to assess the situation. He goes to the front, pops the hood, and acts like he knows what the fresh hell he’s looking at. 

He grabs for his radio, quickly running through the list of people he knows who might be able to help him. Surely Brock would, right? The man owns a plane, he must know how to fix a car. Right?

Before he can even press down the receiver, Evan hears a branch snap behind him. He whirs around, but sees nothing. Just trees and shrubbery and other forest things. 

What worries him a little is that he doesn’t feel scared. He should be scared, for a number of reasons. Instead, he’s calm. 

He just puts down his radio, and raises his hands above his head. 

“I don’t want any trouble,” Evan calls out. He figures it’s a peggie or two out in the woods, and he’d really rather not tango with them right now. “Hello?” 

There’s no response.

“If you’re Tyler’s men, I’ll go peacefully.” 

Evan hears the sound of the crossbow being fired before he realizes what’s happening. Then there’s a blinding pain erupting in his leg, and he topples to the ground. 

The shaft of an arrow sticks out of the meat of his thigh. Pain blurs his vision, pounds against his entire body; it’s all he can do to grip around the wound, putting pressure on it even though that makes him scream through clenched teeth. 

This arrow isn’t coated in Bliss like the last one was. He can feel every pulse of his heart thudding against his chest, every spark of pain flaring up at the slightest movement of his body. 

He hears the faint sound of footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. He can see the red-clad Chosen that approach him. 

One of them looks apologetic. “Sorry, we were under strict orders to shoot you.” 

The other looks proud. “Tyler’s gonna be happy to see you.” 

Evan highly doubts that, but he can’t find the strength to say so. He watches the apologetic Chosen crouch in front of him. 

His weapons are taken, his hands are bound, a red scarf is tied around his eyes too tightly. He’s dragged by his arms, adding to the pain. He’s placed on the back of an ATV, and off they go. 

He can feel every bump in the road agitating his leg further. He can hear the two Chosen gloating about how they captured him first, about how they’re going to reap the benefits and be pushed into a higher rank. 

Anger doesn’t usually come easily to Evan. It takes a lot for things to truly make him mad; more often than not, he walks away from something that irritates him before it can do much more than just that - be a mild a nuisance. 

But this - being shot, the Chosen, being blindfolded and driven up the mountains on a fucking ATV that he could fall off of if these assholes take too sharp a turn - this is pissing Evan off to the extreme. 

He wishes he brought Peaches along so she could tear into their faces and spread their guts on the ground.

He shudders at the darkness of his own thoughts. This isn’t him, he isn’t like this, he’s normally chill and  _ not _ wanting people to die- 

“I heard that Tyler used to be in a relationship with this sinner,” the first Chosen remarks. “I can’t believe our Herald would ever stoop so low. I bet he’s gonna feed him to the Judges.” 

Evan’s blood boils. Of course, that might be because his entire body is in pain, but also because these guys are pricks and don’t deserve the oxygen they’re wasting. If he weren’t severely incapacitated, they would dead by now. 

But alas, he’s forced to go to where Tyler is - he assumes the Veteran’s Center is their destination. Although who knows; he is blindfolded, so they could literally be going anywhere.

 

After God knows how long, they reach their destination. The ATV is turned off, and Evan is hoisted up onto one of the Chosen’s shoulders. 

“He’s fat,” Fuckface remarks, jostling him around much more than necessary. 

“Just carry him,” The other one says. “Where does he want him?” He asks a bit louder. 

“In the basement,” A feminine voice answers. “Strap him to the chair, then leave. You’ve done a good job, you can have either a day off from your duties or you can take a hunting day with your Judge.” 

Evan wants to puke upon hearing the rewards for his capture. He also wants to snap all their necks, and scream at Tyler. But he doesn’t do anything, he just plays his part as a good little prisoner. 

A door creaks, and then he’s carried inside. The Chosen goes down some stairs rather roughly, and isn’t at all subtle about knocking various parts of Evan’s body against the walls.

Just as Evan’s about lose his goddamn mind, he’s tossed onto a chair with enough force to knock some air out of his lungs. The bindings around his wrists and ankles are cut, then they’re re-tied to the armrests and legs of the chair. 

“Sit tight,” The Chosen says, smirk audible in their stupid voice. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Evan spits. 

Something hits his cheek, snapping his neck to the side with a loud clap. His cheek burns, and Evan laughs. Even these motherfucks and their holier-than-thou bullshit isn’t strong enough to resist some good old harassment, it seems. 

The Chosen hisses, mad that his message didn’t get through. There’s a brief pause - Evan prepares for another hit that never comes. 

“And just what the hell do you think you are doing?” 

Evan tenses at Tyler’s voice. He sounds horribly angry. His voice is colder than anything Evan’s ever heard before. 

“Sir, I - I was just-” 

“Just what?” Tyler demands. Evan can only imagine what he looks like - blue eyes ablaze with fury, standing to his full height, hands clenched.

“He was disrespecting you!” 

“Get the fuck out of here.” 

Footsteps, swift like a rabbit’s, get softer and softer until a door is closed behind them. 

Different footsteps, strong and confident like a wolf’s, get closer until they stop just in front of Evan. 

A knife is shoved between his head and the blindfold, cutting the fabric in one clean motion. The fabric falls away, leaving Evan’s eyes to blink in the sudden light.

He has to crane his neck to look up at Tyler; though his vision is still a bit foggy from pain, Evan can tell that Tyler is  _ beyond _ pissed. 

He fights back a shudder, instead attempting to maintain eye contact; it’s difficult for a number of reasons, but he doesn’t back down. He can’t afford to back down now. 

Tyler moves in a whir; in one moment, he’s just standing there. In the next, he’s leaning closer, pressing his knife to Evan’s neck. 

The cold metal pokes into the skin just above his adam’s apple. Evan swallows on instinct, pressing the knife just enough into his neck to barely pierce the skin. 

“I will ask this once, and only once.” Tyler’s voice is deadly quiet, the calm before the storm, a warning of catastrophe yet to come. “Where. Are. My. Brothers?” 

“Where’s Craig?” Evan manages to keep his voice steady by some miracle. He should be scared  with a knife pressed to his throat and six feet five inches of furious behemoth in front of him.

But he fears for his friend’s lives more than he ever would his own. 

Tyler’s eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, before revealing nothing once more. The icy blue says nothing, reveals nothing. “I’m not in the mood, Evan. Where are my goddamn brothers?” 

“They’re safe, now where is Craig?” 

“Take me to them!” Tyler raises his voice and presses the knife a bit more. A tiny trickle of blood beads from it, gathering until it can fall steadily down his throat. Evan ignores the slight pain. 

“If you had asked nicely, I might’ve. But you just had to have your shitty, shitty men do your dirty work and shoot me!” Evan leans forward, gaining his earlier anger and confidence back piece by piece. “Take me to Craig!”

“You’re really willing to die for that piece of shit?” Tyler demands, tightening his grip on the knife. “I will slit your fucking throat and watch you choke on your own blood if you don’t take me to my brothers!” 

“You kill me, you never see them again,” Evan reminds him. “I’m not scared of you, Tyler. I never was.”

Maybe that last part is a bit of a lie, but the first part wasn’t. Evan isn’t scared, not anymore. He’s been through too much shit to be scared by this.

And Tyler looks about two seconds away from exploding. Too many emotions swirl through his eyes, lighting them up all the same. More anger, some definite frustration, but also something else. Pride, maybe? 

Tyler leans away, standing to his full height. He’s grinning, but it isn’t a happy grin; it’s the type of grin that someone does when they’re toeing the line of their breaking point. If Evan pushes just right, Tyler might snap and actually kill him. 

He doesn’t want that to happen, so he just stays quiet for now. Watching, planning his next move as best as he can. 

“Did you plan this from the fucking start?” Tyler asks, something akin to doubt in his voice. He’s still pissed, still twirling the knife in his hands, but he isn’t sinking it into Evan’s throat so this must be progress, right?

“You know I can’t think that far ahead, man. I’m lucky I got this far.” 

“You got this far on some dumb fucking luck, I can’t believe this.” Tyler shakes his head. “Unbelievable.” 

“Where’s Craig? If you show me him, I promise I’ll take you to Delirious and Smitty.” 

Tyler scoffs. “As if I’m ever going to believe a goddamn word out of your mouth after all this. You’ve kidnapped my fucking brothers!” 

“I haven’t hurt them! They’re unharmed, they’re fine, you have to believe me, Ty.” 

“Don’t.” A warning, clear and simple. 

“Just let me see Craig, please.” 

Tyler clenches his jaw. His gaze drops to the floor, searching the worn floorboards for an answer. 

He’s deep in thought; Evan can tell because he’s cracking his knuckles, each hand taking care of each finger with the precision of someone who’s been doing it for years as he thinks. 

The silence in between the soft pops is damn near unbearable.

Tyler takes a deep breath. He meets Evan’s gaze, then shouts as loud as he can, “THOMPSON!” 

And now they wait. 

Scrambling footsteps start from somewhere downstairs. The building is old enough - and quiet enough - that they can listen to Craig as he hastily makes his way upstairs and towards the room. 

Tyler opens the door to the room just as he arrives, not wasting a second in yanking Craig inside and shoving him towards Evan. 

“Holy shit, you’re actually here, I thought it was bullshit, I thought they would never capture you,” Craig talks so fast as he scrambles back to his feet and makes his way over to Evan, crouching in front of him. “Please tell me this isn’t the end, this can’t be the end, where’re the others, are they okay-” 

“Craig,” Evan interrupts, voice firm but gentle at the same time. “Breathe, man. Take a deep breath with me, okay?” 

Craig shuts his mouth and nods. 

Together, they inhale, then exhale. Slowly and steadily, until Craig has calmed enough to speak at a more understandable pace. 

“Is this the end?” He asks softly. His eyes search Evan’s, flicking to and fro so quickly it worries Evan. 

“Not even close,” Evan replies. He gives his best reassuring smile - which he’s pretty sure looks more awkward than anything - and opens his hand up. 

Craig puts his hand over his, engulfing it in a death-grip. 

Their moment is interrupted by Tyler clearing his throat as loudly as he possibly can. 

Craig jumps up into a standing position, head bowed and hands behind his back. Evan meets his gaze with his head held high. 

“There, you saw Craig.” Tyler crosses the room, knife in hand. He slices through the bindings with smooth motions, then takes barely a step back to allow Evan to stand. 

Rubbing his wrists, Evan notices Craig inch behind him. 

“Now take me to my brothers.” 

“Wait, what?” Craig shrieks. “His brothers, what’s going on?” 

“Thompson,” Tyler snaps. 

“Tyler,” Evan steps between the two of them, shielding his friend. “If I show you your brothers, and prove that they’re okay, will you let Craig go?” 

“Don’t push it,” Tyler growls. 

“He’s innocent, just fucking let him go!” 

“Innocent like all our followers that you’ve killed?” 

Evan’s jaw clenches. He’s really not in the mood for this right now. “Yes or no, Tyler.” 

“I’ll consider it. Now let’s go. Thompson, you stay here.” 

Evan takes that as a victory. Memories from a different time, a different Evan and a different Tyler, hit him; usually, when Tyler would say “I’ll consider something”, it more often than not meant that Evan would get whatever he wanted. 

He hopes that’s remained through the years. 

 

The drive is beyond tense. Evan’s behind the wheel while Tyler takes shotgun. His knife is still in his left hand; his window is down, his forearm rests against the edge of the door. His posture is relaxed, but concrete; every nerve is tensed and ready for a fight. 

Evan just tries to not let the stress radiating from Tyler get to him. He turns on the radio, specifically to a peggie station to appease the other man. 

When one the songs made for him starts to play, Tyler switches the radio to a non-peggie station. The buoyant melodies of Queen fill the car instead. 

Evan pretends to not notice Tyler’s right hand tapping out the rhythm on occasion.

 

Evan pulls the car about halfway up the hill, then stops. He exits the car, quickly followed by Tyler. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Tyler does the same, though with more of a scowl. They walk the rest of the way to the jail with their hands up. 

“You’re being paranoid,” Tyler mutters. He can see the Resistance members up in the watchtowers, rifles trained on him and him alone. They already know who he is. He hopes they’re terrified. 

“I don’t want you getting shot because they think you’ve captured me,” Evan snaps. “Sue me. Or have Jon sue me.” 

“I just might.” 

Evan shakes his head. They manage to get through the main wall, but not much further than that. 

The door to the jail is blocked by Anthony and Chrissy leading a small group of the Resistance, all with their weapons raised and trained on Tyler. 

They form an impressive wall, Evan has to admit. 

“I’m only gonna ask this once,” Chrissy says; she seems calm, but her hair is frazzled and her eyes keep flickering wildly between Evan and the Herald. “What the fuck is he doing here?” 

“ _ He _ is here to see his brother,” Tyler replies firmly, lowering his hands and stepping forward. 

“Absolutely not-” Anthony tries to say. 

“Guys,” Evan interrupts, now holding one hand to the Resistance and the other to Tyler. “I made a deal, okay? He sees his brothers, and he lets Craig go free.” He can see the questioning looks on their faces, can feel his plan falling apart. “ _ Please _ , trust me.” 

Anthony looks Tyler in the eyes; he looks anything but happy with the situation. All the same, he steps aside to let them pass. “If he causes any trouble, we will shoot him on the spot,” He warns Evan. 

“ _ He  _ is right fucking here, and  _ he _ will be civil as long as you are.” Tyler marches past Evan, across the small gap, past Anthony. He pauses in front of Chrissy, who’s still partially blocking the door. 

He towers her in an almost comical way, but goddamn does Chrissy hold her ground. She meets his gaze with more than enough of her own fire. “Your bullshit intimidation tactics won’t work here,” She tells him. “We aren’t scared of you.” 

_ Speak for yourself _ , Evan thinks. But he shakes away the thought, because he isn’t scared of Tyler. Sure, he can be terrifying at times. But he can never scare Evan. 

Evan half-expects Tyler to lose his shit at Chrissy’s blatant display of fearlessness. But Tyler just grins, and claps her on the shoulder. “Good to see you too, Chris.” Then he walks into the jail. 

Evan starts to follow him, then stops. He should let Tyler have this time with Smitty and John alone. 

“Nope,” Anthony says as if he read his mind. He grabs Evan’s arm, and corrals him towards the door. “He isn’t staying alone in there. The rest of us will be out here.” 

“Fine, fine.” Evan enters the jail with a huff. When he gets to the center of the cell block, he sees Tyler’s already found his brother and John. 

The three of them look at him, and Evan feels beyond awkward. “They, uh, made me come in here. I’ll try an- and find somewhere else to be.” He scurries off, desperate to be away from those three.

He finds himself up at the main desk up front, trying his best to pretend he isn’t listening to the conversation. But they’re in an empty prison, and voices echo.

 

“Tyler, you’re here! I knew you’d make it, I knew you and Evan would work your shit out-” 

“Have they hurt you? Have they laid their goddamn hands on you at all? Give me the word and I’ll kill them all.” 

“You won’t be killing anybody, Tyler. I’m fine, we’re fine, honest.” 

“How’d they get you, I thought you were staying safe in your bunker?” 

There’s a slight pause. 

“About that…” Smitty awkwardly chuckles. “I may have surrendered to them.” 

Evan prepares for the outburst, but nothing can truly warn you against the pure volume of Tyler’s shouting. 

“What the FUCK?” 

“Look! Shit’s gotta change, and you damn well know that!” 

“You surrendered yourself to the goddamn enemy!” 

“There are no enemies! We’re all just trying to survive out here, trying to prepare for the Collapse.” 

“You could’ve been killed.” 

“Evan would never. He won’t kill any of us.” 

“You can’t know that for certain.” 

“I can and I do. You can trust him, Tyler. Trust him to do the right thing, okay? He hasn’t killed any of us. He isn’t going to. We’re safe with him. Please, I’m begging you to work with him. Figure this shit out so we all live happily ever after, okay?” 

Another pause, much longer this time. 

Evan feels… weird. Smitty sounds so steadfast in his beliefs. So sure that he can be trusted with their lives. Part of Evan is telling him that he should be glad that they trust him so. Part of him questions if that’s the right choice. 

Whatever it is, he can’t change it now. He just has to try his best to be worthy of their trust.

“You’re really okay here? John too, you’re okay with this?” 

“Like he said,” John’s voice is calm and soothing. “We are a-okay, bruh-ther.” 

Evan smiles; John always did say “brother” weirdly. 

“It’s almost like you can trust Evan.”

“Alright, I got it, Smit. Trust Evan, understood.”

“You know I’m rooting for the both of you.” 

“Shut up. I hope you two have a nice stay here at Casa de Jail. I’m gonna go see Jon. Anything you want me to tell him?” 

“Just what I told you.”

 

Evan perks up when Tyler walks by, having to scramble to keep up with his monstrous paces. 

“Jon next, right?” Evan asks, even though he already knows. 

Tyler just nods; he marches out of the jail and back down the hill without even bothering to give a second glance to any of the Resistance members milling about. 

Evan sends what he hopes is a confident smile towards Chrissy as he passes her. Then they’re both in the car and speeding off towards the valley.

 

This car ride is a little different than the first. 

Evan plays non-cult music, Tyler sits in a somewhat relaxed position. He’s still tense, but not nearly as much as he was earlier. Evan hopes that Smitty’s words have resonated with him, if only a little bit. 

 

“He’s in some random ass bunker?” Tyler asks when they pull up to it. 

“It was all I could think of in the heat of the moment,” Evan shrugs as he leaves the car. 

As they reach the entrance that’s set into the ground, they’re met with Luke standing just in front of them, shotgun in hand and trained on Tyler. 

“What is this, a house call?” Luke demands, addressing Evan but keeping his eyes and weapon on the Herald. 

“Pretty much,” Evan admits. “He’s here to see Jon, then he’s leaving.” 

“ _ He _ is still right goddamn here,” Tyler adds. 

“Luke, let him pass.” 

“Fine,” The Marshal grunts. He steps to the side and lowers his shotgun. 

Tyler enters the bunker without another word. 

“We leavin’ them alone?” Luke eyes the bunker door, left wide open, with distrust. 

“Yeah, come on.” Evan walks away a little, and sits down in some shade under a tree. He’s exhausted, bone-tired and brain-tired. He just wants all this to be over already. 

Luke appears next to him a moment later, plopping himself onto the grass with such ease that Evan’s jealous of his relaxed attitude. 

“The fuck do you think they’re talkin’ about down there?” 

“No idea,” Evan lies. He doesn’t want to talk about how apparently he’s trustworthy of their lives now. He doesn’t want that weight added onto his shoulders. 

“If he tries to escape with Jonny-” 

“He won’t.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Can we just… sit here, please?” 

Luke suddenly looks a tiny bit bashful. “Yeah, sure. Get some rest, dude.” 

Evan nods, closing his eyes and letting himself lean against the tree. He’s dozing before he knows it, the warmth of the day and the pure exhaustion of his body cradling him into a light sleep.

 

He’s awakened by a shadow passing over his eyes before the sun hits them once again, startling him into consciousness. 

He sits up and vigorously rubs his eyes, trying his best to be ready in case he needs to fend off an attacker or something. 

“Calm down, it’s just me.” 

Despite his better instinct telling him not to, Evan does calm down when he hears Tyler’s voice. He blinks his eyes a couple times, and there’s Tyler, sitting next to him with his long legs tucked up in front of him in a way that almost looks painful. 

“Fuck, how long was I out?” Evan asks; the sun has shifted so he’s no longer in any shade, the sun bearing down upon him. 

“A couple hours, maybe three.” 

“Luke and Jon?” 

“In the bunker.” 

Evan nods. Everything is alright, he doesn’t have to worry. He feels a little bad for sleeping for so long, but he really needed it. 

“Here,” Tyler nudges him with a water bottle and then places a couple granola bars on his leg. “Eat and drink.” 

“Thanks.” Evan gingerly takes the water and drinks it slowly. He hadn’t even realized how dehydrated he was. Or hungry. 

He can’t help but wonder why Tyler is being nice to him. Or at least, non-threatening. It’s a little weird. 

It seems as if Tyler doesn’t know why either. He won’t look away from the scenery, or the ground, or anything that isn’t Evan. 

Evan eats and drinks in awkward silence. 

When he’s done, he pockets the wrappers and offers Tyler what’s left of the water - about a quarter of the bottle. Tyler declines, so Evan finishes it off. 

“What’s the next move?” Tyler asks, hand absentmindedly picking a few blades of grass from the ground. “You’ve got all three of us where you want us.” 

Evan can only shrug. “I didn’t really think I’d make it this far.” 

“No plan at all? Great.” 

“Do you have one, O Wise One.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you!” 

They maintain gazes for a moment, both angry and frustrated and everything in between. It’s then, looking into Tyler’s furious blue eyes, that Evan starts to laugh. 

He laughs so hard that his throat hurts and his lungs are struggling to keep up but he can’t stop laughing because of how fucked up his entire life has gotten. 

And soon Tyler’s laughing too, and then both of them are just losing their damn minds, sitting on the grass as the sun sets. 

It takes far longer than it should for them to calm down again. When they do, Evan sees that they’ve somehow moved closer. They’re close enough that their shoulders are touching, with both their backs to the tree. 

On impulse, Evan rests his head on Tyler’s shoulder. When he isn’t thrown off, he relaxes just a tiny bit more. 

If he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend he’s back to when they were just eighteen, relaxing in his backyard after school. 

But then his leg pulses with pain, and his pistol presses into his side, and he can feel Tyler’s tactical belt against his hip and he’s thrown back to the present. 

“I don’t know if Ohm really talks to God,” Tyler murmurs, so quiet his words are nearly lost to the breeze. “But something’s going to happen. You… you did everything he said you would. And you didn’t even know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliffhanger, but who am I without those?


	23. settlements and sentiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh. The end is here. Evan just has to push a bit further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter, boys, let's go!

“So what the absolute fuck is next?” Chrissy asks. 

Evan sighs, and takes a sip of the beer he’s been nursing for the last half hour. 

After Tyler and Jonathan had their talk and then Tyler and Evan had their  _ very  _ confusing talk that left Evan way more confused than he needs to be, they drove down to Fall’s End to meet up with the others and form a plan of sorts. Along the way, Evan had radioed Lanai and Kelly to make sure that Craig got to them safe and sound. Just one small relief, but it brought a small smile to Evan’s face.

At least until he and all his friends gathered in the Spread Eagle, looking like the world’s shittitest Committee for Keeping the Peace Against Murderous Cults.

“We storm his fuckin’ island and demand his attention,” Brian suggests, giving Tyler a pointed look from his place behind the bar. 

Tyler, seated in the corner behind Evan, just gives him a smile that bares his canines before looking away.

“We did all this nonsense for a peaceful way out, we aren’t doing that,” Evan reminds him. 

“How the fuck do we peacefully get his attention?” Nogla asks, petting Joe and Tony as they sit on the floor by his feet. 

_ “We kindly walk his captured brothers to his gate and asks if he’s willing to meet with us. If he isn’t, we pop his brothers there and then _ ,” Lanai’s voice rings through Brian’s radio. 

Evan slams his beer on the table and stands up. “For the last fucking time, we are not killing anyone! I’m going for a walk.” He leaves without another word, Peaches trotting beside him. 

While the rest of his friends look ashamed of themselves, Tyler can’t help but smile. Not at the fact that Evan’s pissed at his friends, nor at the fact that all they can think about is causing the death of him and his brothers.

But at how Evan stands up for himself, for them. For how protective he is. He won’t back down, not now. 

When they were kids, Evan was like that too. He’d defend Tyler and his brothers against the other kids who would bully them, and even once, against their abusive father. But he was still a bit of a pushover. Always willing to do what other people wanted, never what he wanted. A people pleaser. 

Now, though. He’s grown up. He’s his own goddamn person, and damn if it doesn’t make Tyler proud of him. 

But then Tyler’s shaking those feelings away, because they’re feelings he can never act upon. Evan will never be his, not now, not ever again. Perhaps that’s for the best anyways.

But maybe…

No.

“Somethin’ funny?” Brian asks him, mistaking his grin for pride in their failure. 

“Just your stupid face,” Tyler replies, chuckling at his own joke. He stands, having finished his own beer and not willing to be in this room full of hostility. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Brock asks. Of all people, Brock is the one Tyler likes the most. He isn’t terribly suspicious of him, and he’s been the least shitty to him. He just sounds wary enough to be concerned for him, almost parental-like in his worry. 

“I’m gonna go talk to Evan, since all you guys do is piss him off.” Tyler shrugs, and leaves. 

 

Evan didn’t really have a destination in mind when he left the bar. He just walked. Somehow, he wound up in the church. 

It had been cleaned up since Delirious was here. The dead birds, the rose petals, the blood - it was all cleaned up as best as it could be. If you didn’t look directly at the stains on the wooden floor, you could almost believe nothing happened here. 

Evan sits in the front pew, Peaches lays at his feet. 

It’s been a long time since he was in a church. He doesn’t quite know what to do. 

“I’d ask for a sign, but I don’t want to be encroaching on the Prophet’s territory,” Evan makes an empty joke to the empty air. His voice floats up and up until it disappears into the wooden ceiling, joining the rest of the prayers and desperate wishes that have been uttered here over the years. 

Evan sighs. He looks to the altar, as if the answers he desires linger there. “Though something would be nice. Anything, anything at all to let me know I’m doing the right thing ‘cause it sure as shit doesn’t feel like it.”

“Take it from me, you’re doing the right thing.” 

Evan jumps, accidentally kicking Peaches. He swivels around, hand over his pistol in case he needs to shoot, only to deflate when he sees who has disturbed his brittle peace. He turns around, settling back onto the pew. Peaches mews at him, disgruntled and upset at being woken up. 

Tyler crosses the small space until he’s standing to Evan’s side, looking up at the altar as well. His gaze holds more scrutiny than Evan’s. 

“What am I doing, Ty?” Evan didn’t mean to ask that, he didn’t mean to say anything at all, but the words are out before he can even think twice. 

Tyler says nothing; he just gingerly steps over Peaches so he can sit next to Evan. He makes sure to leave some space between them. “Your best,” He says finally. 

“But what if it isn’t good enough?” 

“I’m guessing you don’t have a plan for what’s next?” 

“How could I?” Evan flails his arms in his frustration. “I never thought I’d be thrown into the middle of your bullshit, and then I’m thrown to the  _ front _ and expected to solve it all?” 

“Guess it doesn’t help that your friends want a genocide,” Tyler muses. 

“Guess it doesn’t help that you pretty much started a damn crusade.” 

“It wasn’t… okay, maybe it is a crusade. But we have a good cause.” 

Evan huffs. “Carried out in the shittiest way possible.”

Silence falls over them, thick and stifling. Neither knows what to say now, how to go forward from this horribly awkward purgatory of forgotten feelings that lingers between them. 

Evan decides to forget all of it for now; personal shit aside, he does have a job to do. He can’t wallow in his own helplessness forever, right? 

So he swallows his pride, and asks, “Do you have any ideas?” 

Tyler blinks at him. “You’re asking me if I have any ideas for how to help take down my brother? You’re kidding, right?” 

“I don’t wanna take him down,” Evan snaps. “I just want the killing to stop.” 

Tyler takes a deep breath. He nods solemnly, in that special Tyler way of letting you know that you were right and he was wrong. “Radio Ohm, ask to meet him on neutral grounds. Go alone, show him that you aren’t the enemy.” 

“But I am.” 

“No, Ev. You’re not.” 

 

_ “You wish to meet with me to discuss a peace treaty?”  _ Ohm doesn’t bother hiding his disbelief. 

“Yeah. There’s a small cabin, just east of your island. Meet me there, tomorrow at noon. I won’t bring reinforcements or weapons if you don’t either.”

_ “I won’t be doing anything until I have proof my brothers are alive.”  _

Evan hands the receiver over to Tyler, who has Smitty to his left and Jon to his right. Anthony and Luke each drove their respective Wrecker brother to Fall’s End. 

It feels as if they’re all preparing for the end of the world. They’re consolidating weapons, keeping track of people, getting ready for the worst yet to come. 

Perhaps it isn’t the end of the world, the Collapse, they’re preparing for. Perhaps it’s a war. Evan hopes it isn’t. 

“Ohm, we’re all here,” Tyler says. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Smitty adds. 

“Thriving,” Jonathan comments. 

_ “Are they holding guns to your heads?”  _

Tyler shares a look with his brothers, a special look that holds years’ worth of fondness. “Ohm, you know I wouldn’t stand for that shit. Please, it’s unfolding just like you said it would.” 

“You have to trust Evan,” Smitty winks at said deputy. “He’ll carry us to the end.” 

“As much as I hate to admit it, they’re right.” Jonathan gives Evan a begrudging nod.

There’s a slight pause; the only sound in the room is the light static given off by the radio. 

Then Ohm’s holding the receiver, saying yes, and Evan releases the breath he was holding and feels relief spreading through his body. This might be over soon, things might go back to normal soon. 

Tyler smiles at him, and Evan realizes normal doesn’t include the both of them, that he’ll have to go back to his old life, and suddenly he doesn’t want that but he knows it’s what has to happen.

Suddenly, Evan hates normal more than he ever has. 

 

Evan pulls up to the cabin at noon, on the dot. As promised, he’s alone. He’s never felt so bare. 

As horrible as these past few weeks - God, it feels longer than weeks, it feels as if he’s never left Hope County - Evan has been surrounded by people, for better or for worse. Friends, now family once again, even Peaches have always been by his side. 

Now, he feels more terrified than ever. Not for the first time, he wants to turn his car around and drive and drive and never look back. 

But he’s made it this far, he can’t give up now. He won’t give up now. He will see this through to the end, and the end is nearer than it’s ever been. 

With more confidence than he really has, Evan steps out of his car and goes up to the cabin. It’s secluded enough to be considered neutral grounds, but enough people know where he is that he isn’t too worried about being killed and never found. 

Not that he thinks Ohm would do something like that, but it never hurts to be sure. 

Evan hesitates, then knocks on the door before entering the cabin. 

And there’s Ohm, the Prophet, standing before a fire blazing in the firepit and holding a mug close to him. 

Maybe it’s a special talent, maybe it’s a skill he’s perfected, but Evan has never seen Ohm without some sort of light source behind him, illuminating him from behind and creating an air of regality. 

Ohm truly must be larger than man, above humanity. Perhaps he truly does speak to God.

“You made it, welcome.” Ohm gestures to the small table that occupies the far corner of the little cabin. “I made coffee, if you’d like some. The previous tenant had left it, but it doesn’t taste too stale. There’s just sugar, though.” 

“Sugar’s enough,” Evan manages to say. His throat suddenly seems tight, his lungs unable to cope. 

He stands here, before a giant, before a man whose soul burns too bright for his own skin. He feels rather insignificant.

He ignores it all to pour himself a mug of coffee. Ohm had left a small red mug on the table for him, so he fills it with the steaming liquid. He adds just a bit of sugar and stirs. He decides to sit down at the table; he doesn’t trust his legs to keep him upright for too long. 

“So, shall we get down to business?” Ohm meanders over to the table, taking his own seat across from Evan. He holds his mug in both hands, and keeps his intense gaze firmly trained on Evan. 

Evan can only nod. 

“You have my brothers in custody, yes?” 

“Not custody,” Evan says. “They weren’t arrested.” 

Ohm’s eyebrows quirk up at that. “Then what is it you’re after, if not to bring us to justice?”

“Peace,” Evan murmurs, the mere word seemingly taboo. “I want peace. For you, and for everyone else.” 

Ohm withdraws into himself, folding his arms to his chest and leaning back into his seat. Even when trying to seem small, he still takes up so much space. “You do not wish to wipe out my following?” 

“I don’t want to kill anyone. Never did.” Evan expects the typical roundabout, the finger pointing and the blaming of murdering innocents to be thrown upon him as one throws water upon a fire.

But he never gets it. With his gaze fixed on his steaming drink, Evan doesn’t see when Ohm reaches his hands out, setting them on Evan’s as they’re wrapped around his mug. 

Evan looks up, and sees Ohm’s smile. A warm smile, a calm smile, a smile promising better times ahead. 

“You see the truth,” Ohm whispers. “You see that we must work together.” 

Unwilling to attempt to correct him, Evan just nods. “We cannot fight if the Collapse is going to happen.” 

Ohm’s smile grows larger, and Evan can almost find himself believing his own words. 

“I think peace is attainable, Evan Fong. With you coming around, I see great things in our future.” 

 

They stay at the cabin for hours. They hash out the beginnings of a peace treaty, which in and out of self is an exhausting task. Combine it with a Prophet who seems to think that Evan’s on his way to converting into a peggie, and it takes far longer than anything should.

It isn’t even close to being done - leaders from each region need to meet and discuss specifics, but it seems like it might hold. 

The cult will have their space to practice their religion with the promise that no one is killed in the process, nor is any more property seized through transparent legal schemes. 

In return, only voluntary recruits will be accepted. No more kidnappings or drugging people into complacency. 

It’s a tentative peace, and Evan foresees hundreds of complications, but it’s a step in the right direction. 

 

He returns to Fall’s End where every is once again gathered in the Spread Eagle, eagerly awaiting news. 

He tells them peace is being made, and they erupt into cheers. Hugs are given, people are kissed, and they celebrate with booze and a banquet. 

When it’s far past midnight and the party shows no signs of stopping, Brian announces that he found fireworks.

With Nogla’s help, the two of them set as many as they can off. The night sky lights up in bursts of color and light, loud bangs reverberating throughout Evan’s chest as he admires the show. 

The hours pass, and people slowly drift off to their homes. Evan watches them all go, making the excuse that he wishes to personally bid them goodbye to cover the fact that he doesn’t have a home. 

He has nowhere to go. Perhaps he could crash with a friend if he asked, but he’d rather not feel like any more of a burden than he already does. 

So he stays in the bar, he paces around the town, he even sits in the church for a bit. It feels calmer in there now.

He doesn’t feel like he’s encroaching upon territory that he shouldn’t touch. He stays there for longer than he means to, but once he’s sat on the wooden pews, he can’t be bothered to move. It’s just the right amount of comfortable and stiff that he probably should move if he doesn’t want a sore back, but he’s also fine for the moment.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed - minutes, hours, seconds, days - when he hears someone driving into the town. The silence of the morning is just enough for every sound this outside makes to be clear - them shutting off the car, them getting out of it, them approaching the church because they must be looking for him. 

When they open the door, Evan turns to look. 

Tyler stands there, suddenly looking uneasy. More than uneasy, he looks  _ unsure _ of himself. And that’s just the oddest look on him. 

Evan doesn’t want to see that look on him any longer; he looks away, back to the altar. “Good morning,” He says lightly.

“Morning.” Tyler steps forward, but his footsteps are hesitant. 

“What do you want?” Evan asks, fighting to sound friendly instead of annoyed. He’s too tired to simply beat around the bush right now, and he knows when Tyler’s on a mission. 

“Just to talk.” 

“Then let’s talk.” Evan waves his hand towards the rest of the pew, an open invitation for a seat that belongs to God. 

Tyler finally walks further into the church, taking a seat next to Evan. Again, being sure to leave some space. “So,” he starts off, voice quieter than usual. “You got Ohm to agree to a peace treaty.”

“I did, though I think he might want me to convert next,” Evan tries to joke, but it’s too close to the truth for it to be funny. “I’m not wearing those ugly sweaters you seem insistent on your followers wearing though.” 

“Fine by me, they are pretty damn atrocious.” 

Silence covers them both like a warm blanket; it isn’t suffocating, it isn’t uncomfortable, it just is. The silence of two people who’ve known each other long enough that words aren’t necessary for everything. 

But Tyler has a mission here. A mission that requires words that might be better left unspoken. “I got something to ask you.” 

“Shoot.” Evan winces at his choice his words, but ignores it. 

“Have you thought about us? Our relationship?” 

“Every damn day,” Evan answers honestly. A bit more timid, he asks, “Have you?” 

Tyler nods. “A lot.” 

“Do you… do you ever think we could go back to that?” Evan knows his question is ridiculous, but he has to know. 

Just like he suspected, Tyler shakes his head. “No. Too much has happened. We’ve changed.” 

“We have.” 

Even before the cult happened, even before everything went so wrong and the both of them took so many lives that weren’t theirs to take, they had changed.

“But I’m willing to try again.” 

Evan blinks, unsure if he heard Tyler properly. “What?” 

Tyler swallows, throat suddenly tight and painful. “I’m willing to try again, with you.” 

And goddamn if Evan doesn’t think there’s a God out there somewhere, because how the hell else would this happen? How else would he be given what he doesn’t deserve, when he should probably be thrown in jail along with everyone else in this entire county of now-murderers and doomsday believers. 

A second chance. A second life, it seems. A reason to stay in Hope County. A reason to stay alive. 

“Are you sure?” Evan has to ask, has to be sure that this is something Tyler wants, has to be sure that Tyler still wants  _ this _ , whatever  _ this _ will be.

“More than anything,” Tyler confirms. 

Evan can tell now that it’ll be messy, painful, foreign, and beautiful. He knows that this is the best thing that will ever happen to him, and that he shouldn’t take this lightly. 

He knows that he’s going to cherish Tyler forever, and prove him right about giving him another chance. 

Evan looks forward to tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trauma-soaked sponge that is Evan Fong is finally getting some of that sweet sweet comfort right about now. It only took way too long to get there. 
> 
> Just one more chapter, people. Wild.


	24. what goes up must come down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan's new life doesn't exactly go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, y'all. I hope it's a good one.

Once things with the cult are relatively settled to the point where Evan doesn’t think things will explode the second he leaves, he heads back home. 

He heads home long enough to tell his mom bit and pieces of what’s happened and why he hasn’t contacted her. He goes home long enough to pack his things up and have them sent back to Hope county. 

He heads home long enough to realize that his house no longer feels like home.

 

“Here are the keys, don’t ruin the place.” 

Evan’s new landlord plops the keys to his house in his hand, then turns and leaves to go back to their job doing whatever else they do. Right now, Evan couldn’t care less about his landlord. 

He has to get moved into his new house. It’s a small one, situated on a nice bit of property just north of the border between Holland Valley and the Whitetail Mountains. The house is the perfect size for him.

And possibly one more person, if the future grants him that. But he won’t focus on that now. He needs to get moving. 

“Need some help?” 

Evan turns, and breaks into a grin. 

Brock, Lauren, Chrissy, Marcel, and Scotty are all there, each looking ecstatic to see him moving here permanently.

“You guys didn’t have to do this-” 

“Shut up,” Chrissy interrupts. “We want to help, so open the fucking door and let’s do this!” 

With more excitement than probably necessary, Evan fumbles with the keys to open the door to his new house. 

Together, they all help him get his furniture and boxes into the house. Well, Lauren doesn’t help; she had brought her newborn, a sweet little girl that takes up all of her attention. She sets up a little play area in the living room, and doesn’t help much. Her baby is an excellent distraction from the hard work.

Brock and Evan move the small amount of heavy furniture into place while the others bring in boxes and put them in the rooms they need to go. Scotty plays his music through his speaker that he situated in the living room, not too loud so it won’t bother the baby. He opposed vehemently to playing only baby-proof music, claiming that the  _ damn baby won’t be able to understand anything anyways, so what if she hears a curse of two? _

Lauren relented, so they end up listening to the horrible mishmash that makes up Scotty’s playlist - everything from heavy metal to country music. Some parts were good, some parts were bad, but it made for a great time all the same.

As his house slowly comes together, Evan can imagine this being a true home. Having friends over, cooking dinners together, Peaches clawing up his couches. 

His fingers twitch, wanting to bury themselves in her soft fur. She’s currently with Lanai and Kelly while he gets the house arranged, not wanting her to be in the way too much. He’s got a fenced in backyard for her, but he doubts a fence will keep her enclosed. They’ll see. 

It takes until nightfall, but eventually they get most of the boxes unpacked. 

Unfortunately, Evan hasn’t been able to find his box of kitchen stuff; he doesn’t know how plates and silverware can go missing, but they did. So he orders his friends takeout, and they seem happy enough. 

“So, you and Tyler gonna christen your bed?” Marcel asks Evan around a bite of lo mein, aggressively wiggling his eyebrows at him. 

Evan blushes and throws a fortune cookie at the man. It hits Marcel square in the forehead, earning a laugh from everyone around them. 

“Fuck you, man.” 

“Language!” Lauren and Brock scold together, immediately bursting into giggles. 

“Okay but seriously, how’s that going?” Chrissy asks, pointing an eggroll at him. “Give us all those juicy details, you bastard.” 

“Nothing’s happened,” Evan tells her with a smile. “We’re just… getting to know each other again.” 

Brock smiles, one filled with warmth and happiness for his friend. “I’m glad you two are giving each other another chance.” 

“He’s giving  _ me _ a chance,” Evan corrects him. “But I am too.” 

Then Chrissy fake throws up, and ruins the nice moment. 

 

The next morning, Evan heads for the county jail. This time, for his first day at his new job. 

He’s officially a junior deputy in Hope county. Soon to be a full deputy, he’s just gotta pass those requirements for job hours and such. 

He walks in, and is immediately greeted by Craig and John. The former, looking healthier and better than he has in weeks. The latter looking a lot less stressed. 

They’re chatting by Evan’s desk, obviously waiting for him. When they see him, they light up, immediately grabbing him and wrapping him up in a great big hug. 

“You excited to start the most boring job in the world?” John asks, winking at Craig. 

The sheriff, returned to his glory, just scowls. “Shut up, fuck boy, it’s important work.” 

“Without a cult in the way, we just arrest drunks and occasionally deal with tax evasion work.” 

“Important work,” Evan sums up. 

“Exactly.” Craig claps him on the shoulder. “But you don’t get that yet. You gotta do a shitload of paperwork first, so come on.” 

Evan follows Craig into his office, where they spend pretty much the entire day just filling out paper after paper. Some of it’s for Evan’s job, but a decent chunk of it is about the cult. Status reports, ensuring the treaty is being respected, all that good shit. 

The nicest part about Evan’s day is lunchtime. He sees Smitty pop in to bring John some homemade food, and that’s just the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever witnessed. 

 

After work, it’s back to his house to unpack more stuff and play with Peaches. He takes her on a walk before the sun sets, trekking through the woods that are a stone’s throw from his house. He plans on taking her on walks in the morning and at night, which he can tell now is going to suck so much during the winter. 

But he loves Peaches, so he’ll do it. 

He tried dropping in on Miss Mable to give Peaches back, considering there wasn’t a cult anymore that wanted her. But Miss Mable just waved her shotgun around, claiming that she didn’t want the “damn parasite anymore, keep her!” 

Evan was all too happy to comply with that. 

 

Evan doesn’t work on Sunday, so he decides to drop in on Tyler. He radios in first to tell him he’s coming - Tyler doesn’t answer his phone, but he always has his radio - and then makes the drive up the mountains. 

The Veterans’ Center looms into view, but he isn’t scared of it anymore. 

He drives right up to the gate, waits to be let in by a peggie standing guard, and then drives on through. 

It’s been cleaned up considerably; the wolf cages are gone and the grounds are kept. It looks more like a shelter than a military training yard. 

Evan makes his way through the building up to Tyler’s room. He knocks and enters, and is met by two very large, wolf-shaped beings body-slamming him. 

He’s knocked to the ground and smothered by the sheer  _ mass  _ on top of him. 

One wolf is licking his face while the other playfully nips at his hands, and he tries his hardest to pet both of them as roughly as he can manage. 

He makes it off his back, settling into a crouch and surrounded by wolf. 

“I missed you too,” Evan tells Kino and Archie. He laughs when Archie rolls onto his back, begging for belly rubs. Evan’s all too happy to oblige. 

When he finally tears his gaze away from the wolves, Evan sees Tyler standing at his desk, work forgotten and eyes on him. 

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Evan stands up and tries to ignore the two wolves now begging for his attention again. 

But Tyler isn’t mad or anything. Quite the opposite. “You’re cute,” he says simply. He says it as it’s a fact. Maybe it is to him. “I’ve been meaning to take them out today, they need to go hunting or something. They’re getting antsy.” 

“I can tell,” Evan agrees. He pets them for a few moments longer before shuffling over to the desk. “How’re things?”

Tyler just sighs. “They’re alright. Could be better, could be worse. Without the threat of death looming over them, the Faithful aren’t performing as well as they could be.” 

To anyone else, that would sound very bad. But Evan knows Tyler, he knows his hardened sense of humor. 

He even laughs. “Right, ‘cause that’s the issue.” 

Tyler cracks a smile. “Totally.” 

Silence attempts to rear its ugly head, but Evan won’t let it. “I moved into my new place, you should come by and check it out. If, if you want to, I mean. I know Peaches would enjoy the company.” 

Tyler contemplates this for a moment. “Could I bring Kino and Archie?” 

“Always.” 

“I’d like that.” Tyler’s smile is true, and just about the most beautiful damn thing Evan’s ever seen. 

 

It was supposed to be a normal day.

Evan doesn’t have work, so he drives up to the Veterans’ Center. He has Peaches with him this time, with a special harness and leash for her. It’s blue with white polka dots. Lauren helped him pick it out. 

He and Tyler were going to take their creatures hunting out in the woods. They were going to try and snag a deer, so they could make a nice meal out of it for them and their friends. Evan was going to host it, and invite his friends and the Wrecker brothers to try and bring everyone together on a more personal level. 

He’s a little less than halfway there when he heard something weird. 

He shuts off his music, and the sound becomes clear. 

A siren. A very loud siren, one that had to be sounding far and far away from here and yet feels as if it’s right beside Evan. 

He doesn’t know what it means, but it can’t be good. His grip on the wheel tightens, his foot presses more on the gas. 

Speeding thirty over the limit, he makes it to the Veteran’s Center in record time. 

When he gets there, it’s chaos. 

Peggies are running, shouting, crying, dragging others, attempting to command each other. 

They’re all running away from the Center, towards where Evan remembers the bunker being. 

The Gate. Tyler’s Gate. 

He quickly leaves his car, making sure to grab Peaches too. He wraps her leash around his hand so she’s close to him, then fights against the crowd of fleeing peggies to find Tyler. 

Surely he’s still here, staying behind to ensure everyone gets out. Fighting the crowd with Peaches by his side isn’t fucking working, so he picks her up and sprints. He shoves past people, tripping over them and catching a few spare limbs to his sides. 

But he makes it to the Center, and sure enough, there’s Tyler. 

Commanding his followers, telling them what to do and where to go. His voice is strong - the voice of a leader. 

Evan does his best to ignore his rising fear as he places Peaches back on the ground and closes the distance between him and Tyler. 

“What the hell is going on?” He asks, fighting the panic bubbling at the base of his stomach. 

“We have to fucking go!” Tyler shouts. He grabs Evan’s arm and starts dragging the both of them off, away from the Center and back to his car. “We have to get to the bunker, we have to  _ get the fuck out of here _ !” 

“What the hell happened?” Evan scoops Peaches back into his arms so he can keep up with Tyler’s frantic pace. 

It’s frightening, to see Tyler so unwound. He’s panicking, and it’s making Evan panic to the point where he’s damn near about to hyperventilate but he swallows that shit down because it won’t help anybody if he decides to just stop breathing. 

He shoves Peaches into the backseat of his car while Tyler takes the wheel. He’s already driving when Evan throws himself into the passenger seat. They don’t bother with seatbelts. 

Tyler just drives like a fucking maniac the short distance to the bunker. 

When they stop the car, a sound, louder than anything Evan’s ever heard, louder than he thought possible, shakes him to his core. 

He slowly turns around and faces the view from the mountain. 

The sky is on fire. 

In the distance, a great big mushroom cloud shimmers in the sky, black smoke unfurling and climbing to the heavens. 

Heat, harsh and fast and rolling in waves upon waves, slams into Evan as he opens the door. 

He barely has time to grab Peaches before Tyler yanks them both into the bunker. A red light is glaring, another siren is howling, and peggies are running to and fro. 

Tyler shoves Evan and Peaches into a corner, telling them to hold tight while he goes and tries his best to corral people entering the bunker. Evan tunes it all out, focusing on the feeling of Peaches’ fur instead of the wailing sirens that block out the sounds of the crying peggies. 

The red lights start flashing now, and some robotic voice is speaking to them. The words are lost to the sirens, but the lights illuminate the main doors shutting. 

It takes barely as second before the bunker is sealed with a metallic hiss, closing them in the metal shelter. 

The red light shuts off, the siren stops. 

Everyone takes a deep breath. 

Evan sets Peaches down, and looks to Tyler. 

“What the fuck,” he whispers, panting harder than he ever has. “Was that?” 

Tyler swallows, dry and dusty as his throat is. He looks to Evan, and the pure terror shining in his eyes ages him twenty years. 

Disbelief turned into horror, Tyler chokes back a sob. “That was the Collapse,” He breathes, his words harsh and unforgiving. 

“The fuck do you mean?” Evan can’t believe that, he won’t believe that. The Collapse wasn’t real, none of this was real. That was a nuclear fucking bomb and  _ it wasn’t supposed to fucking happen _ .

But the grim look in Tyler’s eyes, the pure horror flooding them, dispels that doubt. 

“I mean Ohm was right.”

“No, no,  _ no! _ ” Evan shakes his head, hands burying themselves in his hair and yanking to wake himself up from this nightmare. “Ohm wasn’t fucking right, that’s not possible!” 

“Then what the hell do you call that?” Tyler shrieked, voice rising in pitch as his own terror hit a maximum. “That was the collapse of something!”

“It was a nuclear fucking bomb!”

“Stop it, both of you!” A familiar voice rises over all of theirs, silencing the entire bunker. 

Evan turns to see Lanai, standing strong while also supporting Kelly, whose leg is fucked up, and Craig, who looks about two seconds from passing out. He immediately goes over to them, taking Craig into his own arms and helping him stand up. 

“What happened?” He asks, wincing when Craig groans. 

“In the panic getting here, some deer ran in front of the car. We flipped,” Lanai explains, gesturing to the battering of bruises and gashes that covers both their bodies. She shakes her head, looking up at Evan with wide eyes. “A fucking bomb, Ev.”

He looks to Tyler, who’s slowly reigning in his emotions. It’s visible, but just barely; his terror is still there, the ever-lingering fear always present, but the mask of control is growing stronger and stronger. 

Tyler looks to his followers, some from his region, some from the others. The mishmash of people - including a few non-peggies - that are now locked in this bunker until God knows when. 

“Are the radios functioning?” Evan asks, piercing the unstable quiet. 

“They were overloaded,” a peggie answers somewhere. 

“We’ll try again later,” Tyler promises, voice much sturdier than anyone feels. “We trained for this, you all know what to do. Get to it!” 

The peggies disperse, very quietly chattering among themselves. When they’re gone, there’s only the non-cultists left, all staring at Tyler as if they half-expect him to just publicly execute them right there and then. 

But Tyler doesn’t do that. He gestures for them to follow him. “We have space for you all, part of Ohm’s contingency plan. Come on.” 

They all trail after Tyler, Evan in the lead, and traverse deeper into the bunker. Craig’s breathing gets shallower, but Evan rubs his hand on his back, trying his best to soothe him. He has to be strong now, he can’t lose it. 

They get shown to an entire block of rooms, apparently having been designated for non-Project members. Ohm foresaw from the very beginning this happening. 

Evan shakes his head. Ohm didn’t foresee jack shit. This was all just… a horrible coincidence.

The logic is weak, even in Evan’s mind. 

He dumps Craig onto the closest bed while Lanai puts Kelly on the one next to him. The rest of the civilians, about ten of them, filter throughout the rest of the rooms and claim their own. 

Tyler stands awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do next. Craig lets out a harsh gasp, which breaks his haze. “I’ll send a medic,” He says, quickly leaving after. 

Lanai looks to Evan, her gaze unreadable. “The Collapse,” she says simply. 

“The Collapse,” Evan agrees. He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. He refuses to think about his friends, about whether or not they managed to get to safety. He’ll find out soon, when the radios are stabilized. 

He startles when Peaches jumps onto the bed, chirping and purring in her way to beg for attention. 

Craig winces at the movement, but manages to place a shaky hand on her back. Evan pets her head, suddenly grateful that he saved her. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t. 

He looks over the bunker; the bare walls stare back, the ceiling bears down on him, the lack of windows is stifling. His eyes roam over what is now his home for the foreseeable future. 

He looks at his new roommates; Craig has passed out, Kelly is trying to focus her breathing, Lanai is glaring at the door in her impatient wait for the medic. 

This is his home. These are his people. Here, with Tyler. 

Waiting out the immediate aftereffects of the Collapse. 

Evan might be closer to converting into a peggie than he initially thought.

A single tear falls down his cheek as he thinks about how he doesn’t have to pay rent anymore. He doesn’t have a house to pay for anymore. 

He grows angry with that realization. 

He was so  _ fucking close _ to having a normal life! So horribly close! He had managed to deal with everything life threw at him so far, only for a fucking nuclear bomb to obliterate it all in a single moment. 

He had put the down payment on the house. He had finished all the paperwork for his new job. He and Tyler were starting to make progress with each other. 

Evan was so. Goddamn. Close. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying tears of pure fury until he fears the red-hot tracks they make on his cheeks. 

More footsteps sound across the room, but they don’t register in his mind. 

A great big warmth wraps itself around him. He looks up, meeting those familiar blue eyes that he never wants to look away from. 

Tyler’s saying something, and it takes a few times for it to get through the fog in Evan’s mind. 

When it finally registers, Evan breaks down. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Tyler says, a personal mantra that’s for himself just as much as it’s for Evan. “We’re going to be okay.” 

Maybe it’s pure desperation running through Evan, yanking towards any sort of promise, good or bad. Maybe it’s just the carnal desire for something good. Who knows what the fuck it is, all Evan knows is that he’s inclined to believe Tyler. 

He feels a spark of hope. The frailest, dimmest spark, but a spark nonetheless. He holds onto it, the same way he hangs onto Tyler; tightly, afraid to let go. Too stubborn to let go. 

He won’t let go of his hope, and he won’t let go of his Tyler. He’s going to make the best of their new future. He won’t let this setback completely erase everything he’s done in last few months. 

He’s not going to let the Collapse stop him from living his goddamn life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit writing this chapter and I'm sure you can tell, but I hope it was a satisfactory enough ending to this long-winded story. 
> 
> I just want to say thank you to everyone to left a comment, or left a kudos, or read it, or even just gave it a glance. If it weren't for y'all, I wouldn't have had the motivation to finish this monster of a story. So thank you for that, every single one of you. 
> 
> With that, I hope you all have a good one.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudos, they go a long way!


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